


Marked and Unclaimed

by littlechinesedoll



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham (Video Games), DCU, Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons), Superman (Comics), Superman - All Media Types, Superman Returns (2006)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Bonding, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Intersex Omegas, Kid Fic, Kidnapping, M/M, Male Lactation, Mates for life, Mating, Mpreg, Omega Heats, References to Arkham Games, Robins being cute, Robins being very good brothers, Smallville - Freeform, a lotta shit going on and i don't know what i'm doing anymore lol, and very good sons, graphic childbirth, references to movies animated and comic universes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2018-01-02 21:38:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 61,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1061934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlechinesedoll/pseuds/littlechinesedoll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After spending just one heat with Clark, Bruce was marked, unclaimed, and without an alpha to protect and provide for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [标记却未占有](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3444725) by [rosemarylu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosemarylu/pseuds/rosemarylu)



> Just a little drabble, a plot bunny that wouldn't go away. It was supposed to be a long ass fic with the birth and Clark's return and seeing the baby and seeing the baby grown up a little and missing his first steps and words and especially realizing that he'd left Bruce, but I'm in deep shit with my thesis and I'm waayyy too lazy right now. The thing about Clark leaving for like five years was taken from Superman Returns
> 
> Dick and Alfred are betas, Jason and Clark are alphas, Tim and Bruce are omegas.
> 
> * edit: apparently it will become a long ass fic with the birth and Clark's return and seeing the baby and seeing the baby grown up a little and missing his first steps and words and especially realizing that he'd left Bruce. Okay now that that's decided. On we go.

Dick never thought it’d come to this. Sure, Bruce had fucked his way in and out of society before he took Dick in, but at least he’d been safe. With Clark, however, Bruce may not have been as careful. Maybe because he trusted Clark. He let Clark mark him.

And now, just a little after four in the morning, Dick had just gotten out of the cape and cowl, and was about to get some rest. It was something that Bruce refused to give up until he realized that this might be the first and also the last time he’s going to be given a chance at continuing his bloodline. And Clark’s.    

With his uniform set aside and with him dressed in something comfortable to sleep in, he made his up to Bruce’s room. After the whole fiasco, and Bruce’s early retirement, Alfred thought it would be best for Bruce to withdraw from society and live with his family in peace. An unclaimed omega was dangerous, and since Bruce didn’t want that kind of news spreading around, he agreed to living in a remote place in France, where Alfred had bought a nice, not so little vacation house. Bruce didn’t even know why Alfred bought a vacation house in France when they didn’t even use it. 

It had everything they needed, from a bunk under the house to serve as a Cave, a teleportation platform in it if ever Dick came from the Watchtower, or if ever any of them wanted to go home and they didn’t have to magically and suspiciously appear in front of the house, and a security system to ward all nearby, if any, Alphas and Betas. And a lot of scent masks. Only the Lord knew what would happen if anyone scented a marked and unclaimed omega.

Dick made his way quietly into the room, and sat on the edge of the bed where Bruce was on his side facing away from the door, wearing a loose shirt and some sweats, with his blanket kicked to the foot of the bed. The young beta smiled fondly, and pressed a hand to Bruce’s growing belly. He felt the child shift under the taut skin, and the movement caused Bruce to wake.

“Dick?”

“Hey, Bruce,” whispered Dick, “Strong kid in there, huh?”

“Yeah, a little too strong sometimes,” Bruce answered sleepily. “Just got back?”

“Uh-huh,” replied Dick, getting back on his feet to reach for the covers from Bruce’s feet and to pull it over him. “Sorry for waking you. Just wanted to check on you. Cooking that kid must be tiring,”

Bruce changed his position and laid on his side facing Dick. “It’s taking too long, but exciting at times, if not too boring,” he yawned, “You’re not injured are you? Or bleeding?” he tried to sit up.

“Nope, not anything,” Dick gently pushed Bruce back down. “Go back to sleep. I patrolled alone tonight. Tim said he got here around eight after some stuff at school, but you were already asleep,”

“You should get some sleep, too,” said Bruce as he drifted to sleep again.

Dick just smiled. “Good night, Bruce,”

“Good night, Richard,” Bruce said absently before falling asleep.

Alfred, Dick, Jason and Tim didn’t do this—taking care of Bruce, making sure he was okay, making sure and trying their best he had at least one of the birds with him at all times—because Bruce was an omega, or that he’s on the edge of sanity because his supposed alpha was not there to provide for him. They did it because they loved him more than anything, and because he needed them. Tim was pretty much just bouncing off the walls happy that he was going to be a big brother now.

They just wished Clark would come back home soon. As soon as possible. Even if Clark had already learned so much about Krypton in the AI of the Fortress, nobody knew why he still had to leave to try and see for himself. Nobody knew why he left without saying anything to anybody.

Clark was a physiological match for an alpha, but that didn’t make him one. He wasn’t drawn to an omega in heat, but Bruce, out of trust, came to him to ask him for help on his heat days. His alien physiology, and Bruce’s sheer stubbornness and denial that lead to the failure of the formation of a bond, and for Clark to make his claim. Both were idiots completely head over heels with each other, but neither was stubborn enough to get the other to submit.

Now, Bruce was marked, unclaimed, pregnant, and without an alpha to protect and provide for him.

Only the senior members of the League knew this. Junior and probationary members thought that Batman was this hulking, angry alpha (courtesy scent masks), and it brought amused chuckles to the senior members who knew the truth; they also knew that there was a new Batman. Nobody knew why, and where his predecessor was. They had a new Batman, Superman was inactive, and that was final. All they could do was fill in for Superman.

“He okay?” asked Jason as Dick stepped out of the room. Jason looked dirty and tired, probably had just beamed in from wherever he was beating someone up.

“Yeah,” Dick nodded. “You staying?”

Jason nodded. “Probably for a long time, Dickie-bird.” He set the Red Helmet down on one of the nearby tables. “Someone’s gotta look after both the littlest bird and him. Don’t think you’d be having a lot of free time since the promotion,”

Dick chuckled. “Yeah, thanks, Jay,” he nodded. “I’ll hit the hay. And you better wash up and clean after yourself. Alfred is not gonna be happy you brought rubble and motorcycle oil on your way in,”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Jason dismissively. “Go to bed, Hot Wings,”

“He’ll be glad to see you again, Jay,” said Dick, “And he’ll be happy to know that you’ll stay,”

“Well, I can’t really ignore it. It’s this alpha instinct thing going on in my head. It’s screaming for me to go home and protect and…fill in for _him_. I’m the only alpha around here. It’s driving me crazy, okay!” sighed Jason, “I mean seriously? Who the fuck marks and leaves their heat mate after their heat?! You have no idea how much this makes me angry, Dick. I am seriously angry as fuck. I’ll make sure I have enough Kryptonite bullets when he comes back. If he comes back, I’ll be ready.”

“He won’t let you do that. _You_ won’t be able to do that. Instinct.”

“I KNOW!” Jason angrily whispered. “God, he makes me so pissed. Ugh. Jesus. Go to bed, Dick. Good morning.” He went in the nearest room and shut the door.

Dick shook his head and sighed. His little brother was too hot headed, but he guessed he had a reason to be. He too went to bed, and was planning to join everybody for brunch. All they had to do now was stick together, wait for the baby, and love him with all their hearts. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd. Written at 230 in the morning. I'll probably change the title sooner or later.

“J’onn,” Jason said into his earpiece. “I need Dick down here now,” he said urgently. “We need someone to help Alfred and Dr Thompson—” he snapped his head to the direction of the door where he heard Alfred trying to get Tim to calm down. Leslie was behind Bruce, laying some towels between his legs.

Bruce was on his knees on the bed, wearing nothing but a loose, undone plaid shirt—one of Clark’s—gripping his shaking thighs as he breathed harshly through another contraction. He let out another moan as he pressed his forehead to Jason’s cool, bare chest. “I need to push—I need to…please let me push,” he begged as Jason rubbed circles on his back.

“Not yet,” said Leslie, moving over to the prepared table near her, where the medical supplies were all laid out. “You’ll know when it’s time. But just a little bit more, Bruce, and you’ll be able to see your baby,”

Jason wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to survive the whole thing, but apparently he did. He’d seen Bruce with broken bones and gunshots and stab wounds but those were nothing compared to watching, helping Bruce through contractions that came and went every few minutes with increasing intensity and duration for _hours_.

Sure, a few injuries after a night’s patrol would be grunted, moaned and groaned at for a while after treatment but this? Hearing Bruce let out sounds that Jason didn’t even know what to call? That he didn’t know if it was just pain from the contraction, or if it was his despair in his alpha’s absence? Jason wanted to kill _him_. He was going to kick Superman’s ass so hard.

“Please,” Bruce whispered, then a moment later he let out a sob as another contraction wracked through him. Jason held him as he trembled and sobbed.

“Batman is on his way, Red Hood,” said J’onn into his earpiece. “He’s at ten minutes ETA, coming from Rhelasia with Wonder Woman.”

“D-don’t, J’onn,” Bruce stammered, “If he’s busy don’t bother…”

“It’s alright,” said J’onn, “He had requested that we inform him when you’re ready to deliver,”

“Bruce, c’mon, just a little water,” Jason wiped the sweat away from Bruce’s forehead, and let him sip some water from a straw, and gave him some ice chips to chew on. He holds his father closely and gently, wiping away the sweat and tears from his face with a cool, wet towel.

He’d been in labour for about eight hours now. He was tired, and was close to actually letting Leslie cut him open, but it was too late now. For all he knew the baby had already made its way down his cervix already.

Heh. Cervix. For years and years, ever since he was a child, he’d ignored the slit behind his cock, pretending it, and the reproductive organs inside him, didn’t exist, taking as many heat suppressants as possible and now…now it was about to stretch as far as it could go to let his baby—his baby!—pass through.

Oh, _God_ , he was going to have a baby.

“Please!” Bruce burst out. He pressed a hand to his firm belly, begging the baby to let him off easy and come out already in his thoughts. There was pressure everywhere, and the overwhelming urge to push was too much.

Jason reddened when Bruce’s moans turned a little sexual. Leslie did warn him that labour and birth was going to stimulate the same organs stimulated during sex. He grabbed some tissues from the Kleenex box on bedside as Bruce shook and trembled.

Bruce thought he was going insane. He’d been hard the whole time and he wished it’d just go away. He didn’t know if he was in pain, or in pleasure, but suddenly, “Jay, I’m going to…I’m going to…” he gripped onto Jason tightly in a breathless, silent scream.

Jason quietly wiped away the mess, and threw it across the room to a trash bin, and mentally celebrated the three point shot. Bruce was leaning onto him now, having barely enough strength to keep himself straight.

A moment later, Bruce knew he had to push with the new contraction and was gripping on Jason’s upper arms, holding his breath and was already bearing down. Leslie was behind him the whole time. “Breathe, Bruce,” she said after about ten seconds.

Bruce let out a breath, and then was taking in huge gulps of air. Jason was whispering encouragements in his ear, not that he really needed any of it since he was obviously not a man who would give up. “Just a little bit more,” Jason whispered, letting Bruce cling to him and try to break his arms, brushing his hair away from his eyes.

“I’m here!” Dick barged in, wearing a tank top and some sweats that look suspiciously like Jason’s, but Jason didn’t care. “Alfred took Tim out for a walk; I’m here,” he announced breathlessly.

“Get some more towels,” Leslie told him as she assisted the black mass emerging from Bruce’s slit.

“Get me one of the face towels, Dick!” Jason yelled after him.

Dick dashed to the bathroom, taking as many towels as his arms could carry, and set the towels down at the foot of the bed. He threw the face towel to his brother, who rolled it up so Bruce could have something to bit on.

Bruce gladly took the rolled up cloth into his mouth and bit down hard as he pushed through the contraction and the waves of pain.

“Oh my god,” Dick gasped, taking a few steps back. He could see the baby crowning, and Dick couldn’t help but frown in worry when it cruelly slid back farther in than it slid out as Bruce took a break.

Bruce stopped when the contraction faded, he let go of the towel, trying to get as much air as he can as possible into his lungs. Jason put the towel back in his mouth again just when another contraction, not even moments from the previous one, pierced through him. He had to get it out. He tried not to mind the pain and just concentrate on getting it out but everything hurt.

“OH GOD THE HEAD’S OUT.” Dick exclaimed, and everything in Bruce’s lower regions looked tight and stretched to the limit and he felt like throwing up, and felt like thanking heaven he wasn’t going to go through that, and also cursing everything because Tim was going to.

“Dick, shut up!” Jason hissed as he adjusted Bruce’s weight on him, and wiped his forehead with a cool cloth to prevent the sweat from reaching Bruce’s eyes.

“It is?” Bruce asked, and reached down between his legs, his hands guided by Leslie, then felt something hard and round bulging out of him. “Oh God,” he choked out.

“Breathe, Bruce,” instructed Leslie, taking more towels from the pile beside her to catch the spilling fluids. “Just a few more pushes,”

“Look at me,” Jason lifted Bruce’s face to make eye contact with him. “Look at me,” he said again, “I know you’re not giving up. I know that you can do this,” he just wanted Bruce to have an alpha’s reassurance, touch and love, even if it’s only his son’s. “A little more, okay? A little more and you’ll have your baby,”

Bruce looked into Jason’s eyes. His son. His amazing, wonderful son, who was trying his best to be his alpha. He nodded, taking in the words of encouragement. He spread his knees a little wider, and began pushing again.  

It was like he was being torn apart as the mass stretched him more than he could take, then suddenly, the pressure was gone and the rest of the baby slid out of him easily.

“There we go!” said Leslie happily as she caught the baby. She untangled the cord, and cleared the child’s nose and mouth. It gave a cough, a hiccup, then a loud, shrieking cry. “Meet your son, Bruce,”

That was the most beautiful thing Bruce had ever heard in his entire life. He didn’t know whether to cry or laugh as Jason gently rolled him over to rest between his legs and lean against his chest. He watched Dick and Leslie wipe away the blood and gunk off him and dry him off. The baby was placed in Bruce’s shaking arms, calming down as he felt his contact his bearer’s skin.

Dick, with all smiles and tears, handed Leslie the scissors.

“Will you do the honours, Alpha Todd?” Leslie offered the scissors to Jason, who with the biggest smile and the happiest heart, gladly cut the cord.

“Look at you,” cried Bruce, “You must be tired, huh?” he cooed, taking one of the child’s hands and pressing his lips to the tiny appendage. The child opened his eyes, and Bruce had to choke back a sob.

They were Clark’s eyes.

“Looks a lot like him,” said Jason.

“Yeah,” Bruce agreed, unable to look away from his son.

When everything had been cleaned including Bruce, the baby wrapped in a warm blanket, and the afterbirth delivered, Leslie said her goodbyes, and Dick joined Jason and Bruce on the bed. A few minutes later, Alfred and Tim joined them in the room.

“Bruce!” said Tim worriedly.

“Shh,” Bruce told him quietly. “Come see, Tim,”

Tim shyly went up to the bed, and peered at his sleeping baby brother. “He’s so small,” he whispered in awe. “What will you call him?” he looked up at Bruce.

Dick looked at Bruce, and Jason, still behind Bruce holding him, and Alfred, standing by Tim, his heart swelling with pride, waited for the answer.

Bruce smiled at the baby.  “Conner,” he finally said. “Conner Joseph Kent.” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M ON A ROLL BECAUSE WHEN THERE'S A DEADLINE IN SCHOOL THAT'S WHEN ALL THE IDEAS COME OUT. I have a feeling this is OOC for Bruce though, but that's an omega for you. But i believe these are the thoughts Bruce will never say or write down.
> 
> Unbeta'd.

_Dear Jason,_

Jason snapped awake as his phone vibrated under his pillow. He glanced at it to check the time and saw that it was a little over two in the morning, and that it was time to feed the baby. He looked over at Bruce who was fast asleep on his bed next to his. He yawned and got up to feed his baby brother. He groggily made his way to the crib, to peek at the tiny human being. “Hey there, sport,” he yawned, grabbing one of the bottles from the warmer.

He was never going to understand how Bruce could go through pumping this much milk out of his chest. It looked painful and…he sighed, maybe a little breast pump was nothing compared to an eight hour labour and pushing a fully formed human being out of a pencil sized hole. He shivered.

_I know I’ll never be able to say this out loud, so I’ll write to you instead, because I need you to know. I want you to know._

“We gotta let your mommy get some sleep,” he gently took the baby out of the crib. Mindful of Conner’s head, he made himself comfortable in the rocking chair near the window. “He hasn’t had much since you started growing like nuts and dancing on his bladder. Did you like dancing on his bladder?”

“Mmm, breast milk,” Conner gladly took the bottle’s nipple into his mouth, and started sucking hungrily. “Yeah, yeah, enjoy this while you can cuz,” he yawned. “Baby food sucks,”

_Thank you. I know I’m not your favourite person, and what you’re doing for me is driven only by instinct, something you can’t ignore. But thank you anyway._

“You did, didn’t you?” said Jason with a chuckle, “You’re guilty as charged, big boy.”

Conner just stared up at him and sucked on his bottle. Yep, he was probably going to be stuck in whichever house Bruce decided to stay in until the mark wore off. Or probably until he found himself a mate, because as an alpha, Jason was never going to be able to leave Bruce and the baby uncared for and unprotected. Even if he did, it was going to drive him insane and back to them anyway.

“I can’t promise that I won’t beat your father’s ass,” Jason yawned again. Talking to the baby helped him stay awake. “I’m going to give him a bullet to somewhere less fatal. Because he totally deserves it,”

_You’ve made everything so much easier. Not just because you help around, not because as an alpha, you give me the reassurance that my child is safe and cared for. But just because you are here, and because you came back to us._

“And you, you handsome little devil you,” continued Jason, “I am going to make sure you know your Kryptonite, your gymnastics, a little gunfire here and there, some knives, and most of all, you see that person over there?” he pointed to the sleeping form on the king size bed. “You better love him. Cuz he didn’t just cook you and popped you out. He loves you, even before he met you. And I’m proud of him.”

_I’ve learned long ago that security is temporary. My parents were taken way before their time, and Clark’s almost deaths. And yours as well. But know that I am happy that you are here, though I do not deserve it. It was foolish of me to think it was alright, to seek security from an alpha I trusted. But Clark has left, and there is nothing I can do about it._

“Alright,” Jason set the bottle aside. It was almost empty, and Conner was ready to go back to sleep. “Time for you to get more sleep. Though I have no idea why you’re always asleep. Haven’t you been sleeping the whole time inside mommy?” he set him gently down in the crib. “On second thought, just sleep. I doubt you or anybody in this house will be getting any in a few months,”

_Ignoring my physiology wasn’t really the smartest idea. I didn’t want to accept this as it is. I hated being a slave to my body and my emotions. And I still do. The control I used to have around my children is now something I cannot afford. This child deserves everything._

Jason checked in on Bruce, who was still asleep, looking as peaceful as he’d ever seen him. It made Jason happy. Happier than getting the satisfaction of beating someone up who’d snatched a bag from an unsuspecting lady walking down the street to get to her car. Who knew?

Now that everybody was full of milk and was getting rest, Jason dove back under his covers and went back to sleep.

_All of you deserve everything. I’m sorry if I haven’t been the best parent to all of you, but know that I love you all equally, as if you were my own flesh and blood. And I don’t regret any one of you. I’m proud of the young men you all have become. I’m proud to call you all my boys._

Tomorrow, Jason decided as he drifted off to sleep, he was going to have a can of Monster with his pancakes, play with Tim, and look after Conner some more, make sure Bruce didn’t get sick or didn’t get anything infected.  

He woke up at noon. Bruce didn’t have the heart to wake him up knowing he was the one who tended to Conner the night before. Since they all lived on the ground floor, it was okay for Bruce to be walking around, but with assistance.

He joined them for lunch in the garden. There were some fried chicken and fries (chips, Alfred insisted), some pasta and sandwiches. Dick had a can of Monster while reading the day’s paper, since he too had just woken up. He was sharply dressed for a day at Wayne Enterprises. Tim was enjoying his chicken and fries, talking to Conner who was in a bassinet beside him. Tim had affectionately nicknamed him ‘Kon’ with a ‘K’ like Kal for Clark, because Conner was way too long for him, and it didn’t sound like a cute name for a baby.

Bruce looked well rested, glad that Conner had been changed and fed before everybody showed up for lunch. Alfred turned from sarcastic butler into doting grandfather. Pretty much everybody just went loco for the baby.

After lunch, with a long shower in mind, Jason went back to Bruce’s room to grab his towel from his bed. There was an envelope on his bedside drawer. He hung his towel around his neck, and opened the envelope to read the note.

_All my love,  
Bruce_


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't expect my fingers to type this out, I swear. xD This is once again written at 230 in the goddamn morning and is unbeta'd. Oh my god the bed is calling my name. But first. Food.

If there was anything other than the insatiable need to be fucked and gotten pregnant that Bruce hated most about the full blown heats he’d already had, it was that he remembered absolutely nothing from the seven days of absentmindedly impaling himself on his favourite toy when because he didn't like heat mates, and he was already ill and delirious enough from the suppressants.

He remembered nothing of the seven days Clark spent with him. He didn’t know if Clark had done anything by the book about taking care of an omega in heat. He didn’t know if Clark had any difficulty in dealing with his needs because of his alien physiology—not that he was going to be able to do anything about it, but he could apologize. He couldn’t remember what Clark had said. He might have said something about leaving. Clark wasn’t that type of person to just up and leave. Maybe if he meditated, which he hadn’t done in a while, would help. If his mind couldn’t remember it, maybe his senses would.

He hadn’t been able to step out of the manor, or his little French vacation house since his heat. It took a while, maybe a few days, before he had completely recovered from the exhaustion his heat brought on. In those few days, he had realized he’d been marked, unclaimed, was probably already quickening, and that Clark had already left. It didn’t make it any less problematic when he left a note saying where he’d gone, that he’d be back as soon as possible, and that the Watchtower was under J’onn and Mr Terrific’s capable hands.

So for most of his gestation, he was in the study, home schooling Tim, which was the most logical idea. Tim didn’t like being driven for miles to get to the nearest school, so after a week of waking up at the ass crack of dawn, Bruce agreed to home school him. When he wasn’t teaching Tim, he read almost anything under the sun, but he poured his heart out most on reading the things he needed to know for the baby.

Right now, he was in the study, in the rocking chair Jason had gotten him, feeding Conner under the morning rays of sunshine that poured through the window nearby. Tim was on the floor, reading a book, glancing at him from time to time.

“They told me to tell you not to exert yourself,” Dick had told him the night before. He had brought a single picture up to the tower to show the senior members. In the photo Conner was about a week old, and Bruce, under Leslie’s insistence, was on IV when he showed signs of exhaustion. He was pale and there were dark circles under his eyes. “I told them it was the mark,”

Now, Conner was three weeks old, and Bruce looked significantly better, but he still looked a little sleep deprived and pallid. Leslie told them it was going to take a while for the mark to wear off, so Bruce was going to be weak, physically and emotionally, until the mark was gone, and until he could manage, however small a connection was created, the unfinished bond. Everything was just too raw and painful at the moment, especially now that Bruce had just a baby.

And he was never as relieved and happy to have his family around him. He had never felt as loved and safe to feel his bond with them as strong and powerful as they did now.

Tim watched Bruce carefully, every time he handled the baby. He had cried out of distress that Bruce was in so much pain when he had the baby. Everything Bruce did fascinated and terrified him. He set his book down and approached Bruce, who has buttoning his shirt back up.

“Is he going back to sleep again?” Tim asked, watching Bruce wipe Conner’s mouth with a soft, small towel.

“Yep,” said Bruce, shifting the small child a little in his arms.

“I miss your belly,” said Tim, looking at Bruce’s slightly swollen stomach. “I liked it when it was big, and the way it moved when you laughed,”

Bruce chuckled. “Do you like my big belly better than having the baby here?”

Tim looked up at him. “No!” he answered immediately. “I like Kon here better,” he smiled at Bruce.

“Yeah, I think I like him better outside than inside,” Bruce watched Tim take Conner’s tiny hand.

“Alright, ladies,” Jason came in with some tea and crumpets. “Alfred says it’s time to eat something. Tea and cookies,”

“Crumpets,” said Bruce and Tim at the same time.

“Whatever,” Jason set the tray down on the coffee table. “This one’s for you, Timmy,” he said, making him sit on the sofa, as he handed him a mug of warm tea. “Yours has milk and sugar, and you,” he turned to Bruce, “You get orange juice and a French salad. I can’t pronounce this,”

“It’s called Niçoise,” said Tim, putting a crumpet in his mouth.

Jason squinted his eyes at his little brother. “You get a well-deserved noogie later, you little know it all,”

“If you can catch me,” Tim challenged with a smile.

Bruce gave a small laugh. “He _is_ pretty fast, you know,”

“Challenge accepted, baby bird,” said Jason, smirking at the boy. He turned back to Bruce to take the child so he could eat in peace. “C’mere, big man, you gotta let your milk tank eat,”  

“Eeewww,” said Tim with a full mouth. “Don’t call him ‘milk tank,’ Miltank is a Pokemon! He lets other Pokemon and humans drink milk from her udders!”

“Oh my god,” frowned Jason. “I did not need to know that. You get another noogie!”

“I can get you Pokemon X and Y for your birthday?” Tim gave him wide smile. “With a 3DS?”

“I’d rather you not,” Jason chuckled. He swayed slightly, putting Conner to sleep as he watched Bruce eat. “I’ll never be able to survive with the food Alfred’s making you eat. It’s all so healthy,”

“It’s what I need to recover,” said Bruce plainly. “And what I eat, is what he eats, probably for little while longer,” he took a swig of the freshly squeezed orange juice. “Do you mind looking after him a few hours after noon?” Bruce asked, “I might try a little meditating,”

“Sure,” Jason nodded. “No problem,” when he was sure that Conner had fallen asleep already, he set him down in the basinet near Bruce.

Lunch was again eaten in the study and Jason decided to join them. Bruce excused himself after finishing the meal Alfred had prepared him, and went to meditate outside on the porch in the back, where there was a little sun and a cool breeze blowing every now and then.

He laid out a mat and chose the half lotus position. He took a deep breath, and cleared his mind.

* * *

 

“How long has he been like that?” Jason asked Tim. He had just finished feeding Conner again and the baby was in full and happy in his basinet.

“About two hours now,” said Tim with a frown. “He hasn’t moved an inch. Actually, he hasn’t moved at all,” he sighed. “Maybe he thought meditating would help block the bond or something?”

“I dunno, and I think this meditating thing is a bad, bad idea,”

Jason decided to stay in the living room so they could see Bruce on the porch. He didn’t like the idea of Bruce meditating.

* * *

 

There weren’t any full memories, just flashes of his senses. He could hear Clark’s voice, sometimes his own; he felt touches and there were some scents, and few second visions, all happened throughout his heat. But it was better than nothing. At least he could get something from the pieces of what were supposed to be memories.

* * *

 

_“It’s my first time spending my heat with a mate,”_

_“What?”_

_“Everything you read on the paper about me is a lie. And you?”_

_“It’s my first time, too, but I’m not sure if marking applies to me. I am alien after all,”_

* * *

 

_There was the smell of his and Clark’s combined musk in the room. He felt touches, heavy touches that burned and cooled him down at the same time wanted more of it._

* * *

 

_The room was dark, and the doors to the terrace were open. The moon was full, and Clark was once again rutting against him, his arms around Clark’s broad shoulders. He could hear their hips canting against each other._

_“Bruce…”_

* * *

 

_“More, Clark, please,”_

_“I can’t, Bruce, your fever won’t break and you’re dehydrated—I can’t,” Clark sounded scared and worried. “You need to—just stay here. Alfred!” the bed creaked and there was the sound of fading footsteps._

_“ **Please** …”_

* * *

 

_“No, don’t,”_

_There was need._

_“I want it,”_

_The fire. There was fire. Fire inside him and burning his skin._

_“I can’t—Bruce you know that—”_

_He was desperate._

_“I want it!”_

_He tried to take it._

_“Bruce, don’t!”_

_He took it._

* * *

 

_It didn’t feel as hot anymore, and the need was gone.  The terrace doors were still open, and a cool breeze flowed into the room, brushing over his warm skin._

* * *

 

_There was a hand brushing through his hair over and over again._

_“I just need to see it for myself,”_

_“Why?” Bruce looked up at Clark. His head was on Clark’s lap._

_“I dunno,”_

_“I hope you find what you’re looking for. Don’t take too long,”_

_“I hope so,” Clark smiled at him._

* * *

 

And then it was like someone kicked him in the chest, and he was thrust out of the visions trying to catch his breath.

“BRUCE!” Jason ran out to him, catching him before Bruce hit his head on the floor. “Tim! Set his legs straight! Don’t panic on me, okay?” he told Tim, who could do nothing but nod.

Bruce was limp, and Jason was carrying his dead weight as Tim untangled Bruce’s legs from the half lotus position. He cradled Bruce’s upper body, and sent Tim back inside for Alfred and for some water.

“Goddamnit, I knew this was a bad idea!”

He let Clark leave. “I made him,” he said, staring blankly up at Jason.

“What?” Jason looked lost, having absolutely no idea what Bruce was talking about. “Who?”

Bruce now couldn’t fathom how much he hated his body even more now. Clark didn’t know he wasn’t fully out his heat yet. He didn’t let Clark mark him. He made him. He was marked. And Clark couldn’t tell he’d marked him because he was different.

He hated it.

He _loathed_ the body he was born with.  

“Clark,” he said, “I _made_ him mark me,”   


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am now free from the clutches of school. I failed my thesis though. That's life and I'll just have to do it again. But that doesn't mean faster updates. 
> 
> Unbeta'd.

Bruce didn’t talk about what he said, nor did he add anything to it, in the days that followed, and the days after that. Jason told Dick, Alfred and Tim what Bruce had said, and what Jason thought Bruce had done, but nobody dared to ask Bruce about it. Alfred, though worried, did not say anything; Dick didn’t tell the League, because it was not his to tell; Jason continued to be a responsible alpha, and Tim did his homework and tried to be a good boy.

Dick made sure to bring a picture of both Bruce and Conner up to the Tower every week, because everybody wanted to see how Bruce was faring, and to see big and cute the baby was getting. Wally mentioned the baby was starting to look more like a mini-Clark; everybody agreed, and that was the last time Clark was mentioned. Ma and Pa Kent got pictures of everything ( _everything_ ), and Tim would gave them everything he took with this camera phone. Bruce had to make sure everything was encrypted, though. The senior members of the League got some, too, physical copies from Dick every once in a while. Bruce wouldn’t admit it, even if everybody in the house already knew about it, but he took a photo of Conner every day since birth.

Bruce found himself relying on instinct and not the books he had learned by heart. Conner was three months old now and was getting so big, Bruce couldn’t imagine how he’d managed to create something like him. He loved to laugh and be cuddled; he giggled when Jason blew raspberries on his little tummy, when Dick peppered his tiny face with kisses, or when Tim made funny faces.

Right now, the Tower was bustling with activity while the Earth was relatively quiet. In the League conference room, the senior members together with Dick, were at the table, in the middle of a video call with Bruce.

“Oh, Hera, bless this child,” said a completely smitten Diana, smiling as she watched Bruce distract Conner for a while.

Everybody was gushing over Conner, telling Bruce how he’d sneeze their roof off, or throw his crib out the window in the middle of a tantrum, but that ceased immediately when Conner fussed when he felt Bruce’s distress about the direction the conversation was going.

He didn’t even mention how very Kryptonian the nickname Tim had given Conner was; how amazing it sounded with attached to the name of Clark’s House. How he sometimes woke up in the middle of the night feeling like he had someone on the other side of the bed, a faint feeling his senses remembered from his heat, only to be disappointed that there was no one there, and that there was only another bed next to his, his alpha son looking after him and Conner.

“Yes,” said Bruce, trying to calm Conner down. “It is rather unfortunate for Clark to miss his child’s first years of childhood, but I’m sure when the time comes that the mark has worn off, he’ll have the best set of godmothers and godfathers in the sector.”

“Damn right he will,” John agreed.

“And the best teachers!” said Wally, “Don’t worry, Bruce. I’ll teach that kid how to eat.”

“No offense, Wally,” Bruce shifted Conner’s weight in his arms. “But if there’s anyone who’s going to teach this child what and how to eat, it’s Alfred,”

The team snickered. Wally pouted.

“I need to go,” Bruce shifted Conner again so he wouldn’t suck on his breast through his shirt. “It’s time to feed,” he carefully let Conner sit on his lap so everybody could say their goodbyes. Bruce smiled a little as his teammates cooed at his baby. He waved a little, and shut off the computer.

“So,” said Jason as he entered the room. “This is the last bottle,” he handed it to Bruce. “Or do you want me to?”

“No, thank you, Jason, that’s alright,” Bruce shook his head. “I’m a little engorged and aching so I think it’s best to let him drain one side then I’m pump the other. It’s miserable, really,” he unbuttoned his shirt and let the child latch on.

Bruce had taken a liking to wearing clothes like Clark’s plaids. He found it easy to undo and do them whenever Conner needed feeding, and they were pretty comfortable. Jason found it offensive whenever Bruce wore the only plaid shirt Bruce had that was Clark’s, but he let it go and tried to be considerate. However, since Jason was the alpha looking after him, Bruce set aside Clark’s shirt and bought himself a similar set. 

“Man,” Jason sat down on the sofa near the chair Bruce was comfortably feeding his little brother. “If protein shakes had whatever’s in breast milk, Dwayne Johnson would be the norm,”

Bruce chuckled. “You can have that last bottle if you want,”

“Ugh, no,” he set it down on the coffee table in front of him. “Absolutely not. Even if Dick and Tim dared me, and the price was a joyride in the Batmobile. No, sir,”

Both men looked at each other and laughed their hearts out. And then there was silence.

For Jason, this was one of those times where only Bruce and Conner existed. There was nobody else in the universe, just a new omega mother and his baby. And Jason _loved_ seeing Bruce look and marvel at Conner like he was most priceless piece of shiny rock ever unearthed, and treat him like he was the world to him. The look on Bruce’s face when he saw Conner for the first time and fell in love with him in a heartbeat, the way he kissed Conner’s tiny hand wrapped around one of his fingers, the way he pressed his nose to his hair, the way he cradled him, and the way he smiled with him was amazing. There was no pain there, only the love and pain everybody knew Bruce so deserved. So he waited until Bruce acknowledged his presence, rather than bursting the bubble of security between the two.

“Have you eaten lunch yet?” Bruce asked, not bothering to look up. “It’s almost noon,”

“No,” Jason shook his head. “We were hoping you’d join us. Feeding him doesn’t usually take long so maybe when he’s put to sleep we can borrow you for a while,”

“Mmm,” was Bruce’s only answer.

And there were times that Bruce needed someone to agree with him that Conner was the most perfect thing anyone had ever seen. Jason went over to Bruce’s side to peek at his baby brother. Today, the second oldest went with, “Handsome devil,”

“No, he’s an angel,” said Bruce, “Because the first three were downright devils,”

“You didn’t.” Jason mock frowned at him.

“Oh, I just did, Jason Peter,” Bruce smirked up at him. “Who said you three were angels? As I recall you’re the most devilish of all,”

“You’re lucky I love you,” Jason smirked back.

“I am, aren’t I?” said Bruce, then turned back to Conner. “Aren’t we?” and Conner, the little sweetheart that he was, was already about to fall asleep but still feeding. “See, I told you he’s an angel,”

“So,” said Jason after a minute, “How’d your video conference go?”

Bruce took a deep breath. “Everybody’s smitten and cooing; Wally mentioned he looked like Clark, which I minded but I didn’t say anything about it. A lot of begging to come see us which is dangerous, but they begged nonetheless,”

“And the baptism?”

“The Justice League is at this child’s disposal,” Bruce chuckled. “And that it might take me a while if I want to be back up there serving monitor duty at least,”

“What? No! Hell no!” Jason whispered angrily, as he felt the anger boil up inside him at the thought that the League wanted Bruce up and running again. “You are so not going back up anywhere! I don’t even want you going anywhere near a computer or an earpiece to help Dick on a case, much less let you watch a hundred and fifty shit of screens for six hours on a satellite orbiting the planet!”

“Calm down,” said Bruce softly with a frown. “As much as I want to be back patrolling and barking orders up on the Watchtower, the need to stay here and raise my child is stronger. Nobody in the League is asking me to return, and Dick is doing a fine job.”

“I still say no,” Jason said stubbornly. “I won’t let you. I won’t let them.” He wasn’t going to let Clark anywhere near Bruce or Conner either.

Bruce sighed. “I won’t, okay?” he buttoned his shirt back up. Jason was probably going to carry this anger for a long time.

“Is everything alright?” Tim stood at the door. “Alfred says lunch is ready, and I brought out the basinet for Kon,”

“We’ll be right there, Tim; close the door,” said Jason. Tim nodded and did as he was told.  He let out a heavy breath. “I’m sorry,” he said sincerely, “I got angry,”

“It’s okay. I understand,” Bruce stood up and gently placed Conner in Jason’s arms.

Jason looked at his baby brother’s chubby, sleeping face, and felt the anger wash away. “Goddamnit, Bruce. You always use him against us,”

Bruce squeezed Jason’s shoulder. “He has that effect on me, too,” he smiled a little. “I believe it’s time for lunch,”

With a nod, Jason led the way to the dining room.

“You don’t mind Martha and Jonathan over for a while, do you?” said Bruce after a moment.

“Oh, thank God. I thought that’d never cross your mind.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the last chapter where Kon is an infant. Next chapter would probably be the disappearance of the Mark. Yay friends. 
> 
> I need sleep. Someone hit me. 
> 
> Oh, if anyone's on Steam and playing Arkham Online, please add me. My Steam username is cityofpompeii.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said the last chapter will feature baby Kon, but I realized the league hadn't had their time with him yet, so this was it. At least they tried to hold him, I guess. I'm not sure what's next, but I'm leaning towards Bruce's return to Gotham. And probably Clark's arrival. Which I have no idea how to write yet. 
> 
> Cheers, and happy new year!

Seven month old Conner looked up at the person who was carrying him. He stared and stared at the ginger haired man who was making scary (they were supposed to be funny) face at him. No. No he didn’t like this person at all. So he cried, and he screamed his lungs out.

There was a collective “Aawww,” from the group of men and women in Bruce’s dining room. Bruce approached Wally and gently plucked the child from his arms. “Man,” Wally frowned as he slumped in his chair. “I was looking forward to holding him all day,”

Conner immediately calmed down when he saw his bearer. “Shush now, child,” Bruce whispered, pressing his lips to the child’s temple.

Diana only smiled. “It seems like a child has Justice League wrapped around his tiny finger,”

John constructed a little rattle from his ring and made it float over to Conner. “Here you go, kid.” He chuckled, and watched Conner shake the construct around.

“He has an extraordinary group of young men and women at his disposal,” said Ma Kent as she and Dick stepped into the dining room with a tray of cool lemonade for everyone.  

Ma and Pa Kent had been staying with them for a while now. Bruce didn’t want to keep their grandson away from them. Bruce still didn’t want Kara knowing, even if she had the right. She was a teenager, and was part of the roster on probation. He didn’t want Emil Hamilton from STAR Labs getting in her head, and telling Amanda Waller or Luthor. He didn’t want to risk that. He was going to take all the chances to keep his family safe.

Shayera stood up and took the tray from Ma, and set it down on the table. John distributed the glasses with floating green coasters. “Thank you, dear,” said Ma.

“I’ll help you with bringing out the food,” John stood up, but was patted back down by Dick.

“I don’t think that’s safe, even if you’re heavily armed,” said Dick, squeezing his shoulders. “You’re an Alpha, he’s an Alpha, and he’s really, really, _really_ angry right now,”

“Right, right,” John cleared his throat and took a swig of the lemonade.

Ma and Dick went back in the kitchen, and Tim and Pa came out with the plates and napkins, to which Diana and Wally helped with, and set up the table. 

They had just gotten from Conner’s baptism. Even if the mark had already faded, Bruce still wasn’t ready to leave France, so the baptism was done very privately in a nearby chapel. Leslie couldn’t make it, but she was present through the efforts of Tim’s tablet.

Conner was wearing a tiny white tux, so cute even Bruce couldn’t resist cooing. And Jason was still pretty protective, but he was doing really well, and he hadn’t attacked anyone or reached for his guns yet, so they were okay. He was in the kitchen helping Alfred because apparently cooking calmed him down.

“Kon!” said Tim, holding out his arms, as if asking permission from Bruce to hold the baby. He sat down beside Bruce, and let Bruce carefully place Conner in his arms. “Hi, Kon,” Tim giggled when Conner gave him a gummy smile.

“May I _please_ get a turn holding him again?” said Shayera. “I mean I swear I’ll try not to make him cry. I’ll even _fly_ for him, just let me hold him again, _please_. Look at him he’s like a mini you and he’s so adorably handsome—”

Tim stood up, went over to the Hawkwoman and let her hold Conner. He went back to his seat beside Bruce, and waited for the conversation to continue. Conner was silent, then he dropped the green rattle construct and reached for Shayera’s wings.

John frowned. “Guess he didn’t like my constructs, then,”

“How are you, J’onn?” said Diana as she turned to the Martian, who was in his human form. “It’s been a while since you’ve had some time off,”

J’onn tried out the lemonade. It was delightfully sour and sweet at the same time. “I am well, Diana,” answered J’onn. “It is wonderful to finally see Bruce again, and to see him and his children, especially the infant, healthy and well,” he turned to Bruce, “And thank you again, Bruce, for giving me, for giving us, the honor of being your son’s godparents. It is a privilege to be trusted by you,” Wally had been the one to explain to him what godparents did and the responsibility given to them. J’onn looked unfazed by it all, but Wally was bouncing off the walls exited.

Bruce nodded. “It is also reassuring to know that I have someone to trust. I may be back in shape, but I am not yet physically or otherwise fully capable of defending myself and my son,” he took a gulp of the juice.

“Was it hard?” asked Wally, “Having him, I mean,”

“Yes, very,” Bruce answered. “I believe I had all of the symptoms all throughout. The nausea didn’t stop until nearly the end of the third trimester, and instances of high blood pressure and insomnia were sporadic. No diabetes, thank goodness. And there was tenderness, a lot of swelling and some pigmentation,”

Wally shivered. “Sounds scary.”

“Not as scary as when Kon was born!” said Tim. “It was his birthday and all…”

Bruce put a gentle hand to Tim’s back. “Go help bring the food out,” he whispered, and Tim hopped off the chair and ran back into the kitchen. “What he meant to say was, eight hours of pain isn’t exactly anybody’s cup of tea,”

“Dick didn’t know until the last minute that you were in labor,” said Diana with a chuckle. “He flew the Javelin like how Wally would run if he were late on a date with Linda,”

Wally flushed red.

“I thought you were gonna call me when he started labor, not exactly when he was about to literally get him out!” said Dick as he set down the tray of spoons, forks and knives. Again, John distributed the utensils with some little flying green dots.  “I need to get me one of those. It’s going to make chores so _much easier._ Like cleaning the Batmobile after Clayface douses it with mud. Or my laundry!”

John chuckled.

“Ow!” exclaimed Shayera as she stepped away from the table to carefully flap one of her wings, “He pulled out one of my feathers!” Conner giggled and happily waved the large feather around. “Well if you put it that way. You’re welcome,” she snuggled him.

“That is _so_ unfair!” complained Wally. “Why does he like you?!”

“Because obviously he likes birds,” said Shayera, peppering the giggling child’s cheeks with kisses. “Having been taken care of Robins ever since he’s been put snugly inside his mom,”

“Alright, ladies!” said Pa as he, Dick and Tim stepped out with the food with Alfred and Ma behind them. “Bruce wanted a Thanksgiving (1) dinner with you so that’s what we’re having,”

The food was laid out, and dinner started. Bruce was happily listening to the conversation going on around him, and was halfway through his food when Conner started crying in his basinet beside Tim. He was about to stand up, but Alfred stepped in and took him.

“It’s alright, sir,” said Alfred with a smile, then he brought Conner into the kitchen where the crying ceased.

“Does he still feed from you?” asked Diana.

“Yes, but I have some bottles prepared for when I’m too out of it at night to feed, so Jason does it,” answered Bruce. “The boys take turns feeding him. It’s quite endearing,”

Tim’s eyes widened as he smiled from ear to ear at Bruce. Bruce chuckled and wiped a smear of gravy from Tim’s chin.

“I’ll have to start weaning him off to just the bottle or solid food because he’s getting teeth and that doesn’t really feel comfortable, especially when he’s cranky,”

The members of the league winced. “Other than the crying,” said Ma, “Conner is a complete sweetheart. Especially when he’s trying to say something,”

Then Conner started crying again. Bruce excused himself, took Conner from the kitchen and retreated to his study. Conner must not have liked being rudely taken from his basinet.

After about a moment of silence, John spoke. “He’s not coming back, is he?”

“No,” Pa shook his head. “He tries to keep himself busy when Conner’s asleep. Reading, getting back in shape or anything that wouldn’t pull a muscle or remind him of certain people,”

Quietly, everyone had gone back to finishing the last bits of food on their plate, and helped clean up. Alfred packed them some food for them to take home.

When Bruce took his crying baby brother off his arms, Jason left the kitchen and had a well-deserved cigarette in the backyard, something he hadn’t had since he’d come home. It was like quitting, since he had to give it up for everybody else’s health. He just wanted one now to get his mind of the people in the house. He’d probably not have another one for a few more years, and probably really quit altogether.

He saw the figures in the house leave the dining room, and go into some other room. Probably to Bruce’s study to say goodbye.

Bruce liked to sing softly to Conner when he was trying to get him to sleep. Mostly oldies, some Carpenters and Beatles. Today he sung Conner something else. It was a bit sad. It was what he felt at the moment. He was both happy and sad. Happy that he was surrounded with family and friends, and sad that they weren’t complete.

[_One by one their seeds were emptied._ ](http://youtu.be/0e4Crth_Hb8?t=3m46s) _[And one by one, they went away.](http://youtu.be/0e4Crth_Hb8?t=3m46s) (2)_

Wally was the one who opened the door to Bruce’s study. Bruce was by the window, back to the door, sitting in a rocking chair bathed by the moonlight.  “I think I’ve heard that song before,” he whispered to the others as they made their way into the room. “Where have I heard this before?”

[ _Now the family is parted, will it be complete one day?_ ](http://youtu.be/0e4Crth_Hb8?t=3m46s)

“That sounds really sad,” whispered Shayera with a frown.

John closed the door and joined the others near the center of the room. “I think we should go,” he said, “Us being here is too much for them."

[ _Will the circle be unbroken? By and by, by and by._ ](http://youtu.be/0e4Crth_Hb8?t=3m46s)

Bruce moved, buttoned up his shirt and shifted Conner’s weight in his arms. He hadn’t fallen asleep yet, but he was full and was about to. He babbled and sleepily held onto one of Bruce’s fingers.

[ _Is a better home awaiting in the sky, in the sky?_ ](http://youtu.be/0e4Crth_Hb8?t=3m46s)

Bruce heard them leave and the door click, and Conner fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) According to S02E08 of Young Justice, “Satisfaction,” Conner was born on the 21st of March, so I’m using that.   
> (2) This song is called "Will The Circle Be Unbroken," and I used the Bioshock Infinite version. It was performed by Courtnee Draper (vocals) and Troy Baker (guitar), the voice actors of the main characters. Please take a moment to listen to the whole song; it's beautiful. I'm also not sure why I used that part of the song, probably because Bruce just wants Clark back and for his family to be whole.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No idea why this one's extra long. Maybe because I had a shitload if time on my hands and I don't have any internet at home.

Conner was two when Bruce came back to Gotham. The League had suggested he beam home, instead of flying. Flying was too risky, and Gotham’s journalists would hear about one of his jets as soon as it taxied down the runway. And just to be safe, Bruce had Conner use his surname instead of Clark’s. There was only one Kent in the world that Bruce Wayne was publicly associated with. He didn’t want Clark’s name to be dragged into this.

A little while after Clark left, Bruce had received an email from Perry White, that _The Planet_ had just lost one of its best writers, Clark Kent. He quit, Perry had said, because he wanted to go hiking on some holy mountains and see some llamas to find himself. Bruce had laughed bitterly. The ‘finding himself’ part was mostly true, and hiking on the mountains of Nepal or Japan and seeing llamas were complete bullshit. Surely Clark could have come up with a better lie than that.

And no story, was released to the public. He was gone a few years (again), he came back with a child and that was it. He had always been a private person, and Brucie was all for show, so he’d rather let let them make up whatever bullshit rumour they want than give them a story that was half true. Because no matter how and what angle he looked at it, it was the truth. At least a part of it was.

Now, had just turned four, and had celebrated his birthday with his godfathers and godmothers in the manor. Apparently, four year old Conner was a favourite of the paparazzi. And was somehow everything he wore was the height of baby fashion. Including some blue fuzzy blue years Dick thought was cute. Suddenly every toddler in the city was wearing some kind of blue fuzzy ears.

He went out every once in a while, surrounded by his sons (1). No parties were held at the manor, or anywhere near Mountain Drive. Dick and Tim, the little genius that he was, ran Wayne Enterprises. Bruce was there too, on times that he was needed. Especially in board meetings. But usually Tim handled those. They also handled the nightlife well. He was allowed to help on cases now. Most of them were pretty easy (he had no idea why Gotham was being suspiciously kind the last few years—maybe because most of the guys he caught were still in Arkham). The most recent one was Professor Pyg, and some shit about killing fashion designers (2).

Jason stayed home with him. While Bruce taught Conner, Jason decided to take some online courses on some random undergraduate degree. Bruce caught him doing some papers, and from the looks of it, it had something to do with business. Jason wouldn’t tell him and he wasn’t going to push the boy.

Huh. Boys. His sons, except maybe for Conner obviously, were already young men. Young men who had the thinking capacity of a sixteen year old.

Alfred was still preparing dinner in the kitchen, and Conner had complained about fifteen minutes ago that he was already hungry. So Bruce fixed up some of the leftovers from yesterday (some chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy) and heated them up in the microwave.

“Alright, Kon, time for dinner,” Bruce entered the playroom, where all his boys were present and wrestling around with each other. He set down the tray, closed the door, and stood there with his arms crossed, waiting for them to acknowledge his presence.

They were in a tangled heap of limbs, sweat and hair on the puzzle mat on the floor surrounded with toys, with Conner sitting on top like cherry on a scoop of ice cream.

“Apparently I don’t have three adult sons but four toddlers,” he turned to his left and saw two dents on the drywall. Alfred was not going to like that at all. “Mind explaining that?”

“Man,” said Dick breathlessly. “Bruce, that kid is going to be so good. He threw me and Jason at that wall!”

Bruce looked at Conner, and the child beamed at him. He had no idea how he missed that two big crashing sounds earlier. It _was_ a big house.                                                                

“It was awesome, and a good kind of pain,” said Jason as he untangled his limbs from his brothers. “That is going to be sore for a while,” he heaved as he got up.

“You three wash up, and help Alfred with dinner,” said Bruce. “Conner Joseph, get off Richard and we’ll get you cleaned up. Timothy Jackson, Jason Peter, Richard John,”

“Oh no,” said Tim, “Full names,” he frowned. “Not full names,”

“This is entirely your fault, Richard,” said Jason as he lifted Conner off of Dick’s back and set his bum down on the mat, and hit his older brother’s face.

“Hey-ooww!” Dick frowned and held his aching, bruising cheek.

“You’ll be doing each other’s reports for the rest of the week,” Bruce finished.

“What?! His reports are boring!” Jason pointed at Tim.

“His reports have too many casualties! And he’s got dozens of them piled up!” Dick frowned at his little brother. Jason grinned smugly at him.

“Well, you better start then,” Bruce opened the door for them. Before they left, they gave Conner some cheek pinches and ruffled his hair.

“Play again!” Conner called after his brothers.

“Later, okay?” Dick winked at him before closing the door.

“You play rough, don’t you?” Bruce chuckled as he lifted Conner off the floor. “C’mon. We’re going to take a bath first before dinner because you are one sweaty, smelly little boy,”

“Bath!” Conner repeated with a few excited claps.

Bruce stepped into the playroom’s bathroom and filled up the tub with warm water. Conner demanded to be immediately put in the tub as he tried to pull off his socks. Bruce fondly laughed at the child and helped him out of his clothes and into the tub.

Half way into the no-tears shampoo lather, Conner let go of his bath toys and looked up at his daddy. “Can I call you mommy?”

Bruce froze for a moment, then went back to playing with his son’s hair. He turned it into a Mohawk, then lathered some baby shower gel onto Conner’s body. “Dick told you that, didn’t he?”

The child nodded. “He said I came from your tummy and he said people who had babies in their tummies are mommies,” he said solemnly.

“I could care less what you call me, love,” said Bruce tenderly. “But I am your bearer, and you did come from me, and no title will ever change that. Now. About you throwing your brothers at that wall,”

Conner gasped and frowned. “I’m sorry,”

“No more throwing brothers at anything, okay?” Bruce stared to rinse off the soap from Conner’s body. “Unless they ask for it, okay?” Bruce winked at him. The child squealed, and giggled and clapped, sending water everywhere. “Alright, alright, calm down,”

Conner was wrapped in a big fluffy towel, dried and put in some Nightwing pajamas. Dick was so going to cuddle his little brother to sleep if he saw this. Conner had everybody’s uniforms as pajamas.

And sometimes, Bruce couldn’t believe that they were all grown up. He saw it when Dick was teaching Jason something he didn’t know with his coursework, or Tim and Jason helping each other with homework. He saw it when they were sharply dressed before going out to face the public. He saw it when they spoke in front of the press, representing different divisions of Wayne Enterprises. He saw it when they worked together with the League, senior, junior or probationary members. He saw it especially when they were taking care and responsibility of each other.

But then at times, Bruce was reminded that even if these boys were already adults with brilliant minds, they were still just children. They were children. They were his children, and they needed him alive.

Bruce set Conner down on some torn up foam mattress on the floor in an abandoned warehouse. Hopefully none of the thugs he had beaten up a while ago hadn’t woken up and wasn’t following the trail of blood coming from a stab wound on his side, and two bullet wounds on his right leg. His white suit was soaked through with blood, and torn at a lot of places, and Conner’s own white tux was stained red. He took his jacket off, and tore it to pieces to wrap around his shot leg.

Getting abducted on the way to—and not in the middle of—business gathering was so not pretty. Bruce thought these thugs liked stealing pearl necklaces and diamond earrings from guests. He thought wrong. Also, getting abducted with your child was so distasteful Bruce wanted to throw up. Some thugs had no honor. There _were_ some who didn’t involve children in their shit. But those guys, Bruce made sure they were beat up good and well, tender enough for a barbeque, because they put his son in danger.

The most fucked up thing, though? He lost his shit. He never thought he’d ever lose his shit like that. It was supposed to be easy. It was just a kidnapping. He’d been kidnapped so many times already. But no. Bruce learned that it wasn’t that simple anymore. The moment they touched Conner—when they pinched his cheek, talking about some amount of money Bruce paid no attention to, something just snapped inside him and he started trying to break out of the ropes that tied him onto a pipe on the wall. Minutes later, he had broken free. He didn’t think, and immediately took down the nearest thug.

It didn’t take five minutes. He left several thugs lay on the floor bleeding, each with a broken rib and wrist at least, most of them barely breathing. It was after he untied Conner from his chair that he realized he’d been stabbed and shot.

Though it was a good thing to know that he hadn’t lost his touch yet, considering he lost his shit. 

And now, the adrenaline had completely worn off and he was in a shitload of pain. He pressed on this earpiece to turn it on, activating the GPS to send his coordinates to J’onn up on the Watchtower Bridge. He was thankful it hadn’t fallen out as he moved through beating up the goons. He fell down beside Conner on the mattress.

“You okay?” he asked the child. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

Conner’s lower lip quivered as he crawled over to his bearer. He shook his head. “You’re hurt,”

Bruce put pressure on the stab wound on his side. When he let out a yelp, Conner started to sob. “It’s alright, my love,” Bruce placed a chaste kiss on Conner’s head. “Help will be here soon,”

“Mommy,” Conner cried.

He was dizzy, and he was sure that any moment now, he was going to pass out. But he wasn’t going to. With all of his will, he was going to do his best not to pass out and scare his son that he might have died. He wasn’t going to do that to him.

He took off his belt and bit onto it as he took the bullet out of his thigh. He tried his best not to vocally express the extreme pain he was in. when bullet number two was out about five minutes later, Conner was outright sobbing, so he hastily tied the pieces of his jacket around his leg.

“Shush, shush,” Bruce whispered, pulling Conner to his chest.

Conner had taken to calling him ‘mommy,’ in private. Bruce found it endearing, and at times he was sorry that Conner only had one person two give both maternal and paternal titles to.

“I’m here. You’re okay. You’re safe,”

* * *

 

When Clark arrived at the Watchtower, it was like it was deserted. Almost all junior and probationary members were on assignment. The personnel were as busy as ever though. It was Mr Terrific on the bridge giving out missions.

It was quiet, and senior members weren’t out and about like they used to.  Mr Terrific was probably too busy overseeing the probationary members on their assignments. He greeted him, but had to go back to the screens he was manning. He asked about his teammates, but apparently they were all on Earth.

So he went to the cafeteria to have some coffee. He’d already said hi to Ma, and he wasn’t ready to go show his ass at The Planet yet, so he was going to pass the time in the Watchtower. He also wasn’t ready to show his face to Bruce.  It was nice to see the cafeteria lady again, and that amazing coffee maker.

He was having a nice cup of coffee and a buttered bagel when J’onn’s voice came through the speakers.

“Attention all available senior League members. This is an Omega Level situation. The Knight and the Sunbird have been located. All senior League members to the teleport pads now,”

Clark almost toppled over the coffee as he rushed to the bridge. “J’onn. What’s going on? Who’s Knight and Sunbird?”

“We’re the only seniors here, Kal. Get on the pads,” J’onn told him, then he turned to one of the personnel and told him the coordinates. “The others might—” his earpiece beeped. “Batman.”

“I’m on the way there, J’onn,” said the man on the other line.

That wasn’t Bruce. There was a new Batman.

“I swear it Lex is behind this, I am going to make sure LexCorp goes down. Together with all its subsidiaries! I’ll burn it all!”

Wait. Was that Dick? Dick was the new Batman?

“We’ll be there in a moment,” J’onn flew down to the pads and Clark followed.

He didn’t have any more time to ask what was happening, because a second later they were in front of a warehouse in the of a ghost town in the middle of the night. Metropolis wasn’t shiny and gold everywhere, and there were depressed areas, too. And that’s exactly where they were. Diana and Shayera had just bust through a wall, and John rushed in providing light for everyone with J’onn right behind him. Moments later, the Batwing flew by, and Dick and Tim glided down towards the building.

Batman ran past Clark, headed towards the opening in the wall. Robin stopped for a moment to give him a glance from head to toe and said, “Oh, you have got to be kidding,” he frowned and ran after everyone else. “This is so not the time,”

Clark went a moment later, trying to process what was happening. It was as if everybody had adjusted to his absence so well that they weren’t sure what to do now that he was there.

Suddenly there was the sound of steady thumping in his ear. He hadn’t heard it in a while, so he wasn’t able to catch it as soon as they were beamed. That was Bruce’s heartbeat.

“Mr Terrific,” Diana said into her earpiece. “Have you notified Dr Thompson? We’re ready to teleport,”

John had an unconscious Bruce on a construct stretcher; Shayera had her wings covering her front, trying to calm down an inconsolable child, telling him that everything was okay and that Bruce was just asleep; J’onn was out surveying the area where Bruce and the child were held in. A gust of wind with a red blur went past them not a second later, then stopped after he was done checking the rest of the building. Wally.

“Everyone okay?! Nobody’s in here except for the unconscious mooks. I ran past Jason—he’s on his way to Dr Thompson with clothes…” he trailed off when he saw Clark. “HEY!” Wally smiled at him. “You’re back! How’s it going?”

“Good, I guess?” said Clark hesitantly. Since when did a kidnap situation require the whole League?

“Dr Thompson has been notified. Beaming you there now, Wonder Woman,” came Mr Terrific’s answer on Diana’s earpiece.

In a flash of white light, they were inside a white tiled room. It was a hospital. No, a clinic.

A beautiful, middle aged lady gave some towels and blankets to Shayera for the child, then led John into another room—a tiny surgery room, Clark guessed. John stepped out of the room a moment later, bearing orders from the doctor to put Shayera and Conner into one of the rooms so the child—his name was Conner according to the doctor—could be changed out of his bloody tux and wrapped in the blankets, and so that he could be cleaned up.

“Daddy okay?” Conner asked the winged woman.

 _Daddy?_ Clark’s eyes widened.

“Yeah, he’s okay,” answered Shayera as she put the bloody tux in a paper bag. “Dr Thompson’s fixing him up right now. He’ll be all good in no time, sweetie,”

“He was really angry,” Conner frowned.

“He had every reason to be angry, son,” said John, making Conner a teddy bear construct. “Now, hold on to this while we wait for him to come out of that room, okay?”

Conner nodded.

In the waiting room, nobody was talking. Dick and Tim went in the room Conner was in. Diana was leaning on a wall, staring at the surgery room’s door like she had heat vision. Wally was fidgeting on the sofa near the concierge counter. J’onn was sitting rigidly next to Wally. None of them had really given him a second of eye contact since he got there. And this wasn’t really a good thing to come home to.

Nobody was talking to him either. Dick was Batman. Bruce was abducted with his _son_. He had no idea what was happening.

“Where is he?!” a young man in his twenties with dark hair, in a leather jacket and a red domino mask barged in the clinic holding a duffel bag.

“FINALLY!” Wally zoomed up to him and grabbed the duffel and brought it into Conner’s room.

Jason’s eyes widened. The anger registered about a few seconds after his shock subsided. On instinct, he grabbed one of his hand cannons, unloaded the regular bullets, and then loaded it with the ones with the Kryponite bullets. He had been working with guns so long Diana couldn’t stop him from loading the gun.

“What the fuck is _he_ doing here?!” he demanded from Diana and J’onn as he aimed the gun at Clark.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Let’s just agree that Jason is not legally dead. xD
> 
> (2) Beware The Batman. There was an episode where Professor Pyg and Mr Toad were targeting people who had done harm to animals. One of them was a fashion designer who, according to Bruce, “was known for his bold statements in leather.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd, like the rest of the first chapters. Mistakes are mine. Please tell me if there are any mistakes. :D ~~More shitty plot and writing, hooray!~~
> 
> Note: okay, last chapter, J’onn had said “Omega Level Situation” for Bruce and Conner. I didn’t mean that in the Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics or classist sort of way. It’s what the Watchtower calls the situations of highest priority. I’ve heard Mr Terrific say it once or twice through Justice League Unlimited.
> 
> Also. Anybody have any ideas on what I can rename this thing into. I kinda don't like the title I first gave it. LOL

“Jason, please put away the gun,” said Diana as she cautiously moved forward.

“Please,” Jason snorted. He didn’t back down or lower the gun. “I waited five years for a chance to aim a gun at him with bullets that could actually kill him,”

“We’re at a clinic, and Conner can hear from the other room. This isn’t appropriate,” Diana hissed.

“Oh, like anything about this whole situation is appropriate, Princess?” Jason was anything but calm. His other fist was clenched shut, his heart was beating as if it had run a marathon, and he wasn’t going to listen to reason.

Dick and Wally stepped out of the room, leaving Conner with Tim, John and Shayera. “Jason, put the gun down,” said Dick.

“Your promotion doesn’t make you the boss of me,” Jason didn’t even look at anyone else besides Clark. “You think this is okay?” he demanded from Clark. “You think it’s okay to come waltzing back into the Milky Way and everything will all be like how you left it?”

“You’re making Kon, uncomfortable, Jason,” frowned Wally. “Please, you have to calm down!”

“CALM DOWN?” Jason yelled. “You’re asking me to calm down after all he’s done!”

Clark, even though he was scared, didn’t like that he was being accused of something he didn’t do. Or something he didn’t know he did. He wanted answers, too. “I didn’t even do anything!”

No one reacted to him. Not even Wally, who had the only positive greeting for him when he arrived.

“EXACTLY!” Jason’s voice rose again. “You didn’t do anything! That’s exactly what you did. You fucking left, and didn’t do anything! Not a damn thing!” he had turned red from the blood rushing to his face, and he was breathing heavily.

Clark raised both hands in surrender. “Look, son—”

“I am NOT your fucking son.” Jason cut him off. “Don’t you fucking dare call me that again.” 

“Okay,” said Clark cautiously. He was perfectly capable of taking the gun, but he didn’t. He was going to explain himself, and hope that the boy would put the gun down. “Could I just please know what’s going on?”

“Oh, so now we owe _you_ an explanation?” Jason was getting angrier by the minute. “When _you_ were the one who left without any?”

Diana sighed, and Clark looked around. Nobody except Jason would look him in the eye.

“I went to Krypton,” Clark started. “I wanted to see what my home planet looked like—”

Jason started laughing bitterly. “Home?” he laughed so hard that he had to put the gun down, and take off his mask to wipe away the tears. Everyone else in the room was shocked at his reaction. “That is some amazing bullshitting right there, Superman. Who knew?”

“I’m not sure I follow—”

But Jason cut him off once more and aimed at the gun at him again. “You expect me to just take that bullshit excuse? Huh? You wanted to see your home planet? Newsflash, Boy Scout, your so called home planet is a piece of floating dead rock!”

“Jason, stop it!” Dick but in, but Jason dismissed him.

“Shut up, Dick!” Jason wasn’t going to hold back now. He was going to give this son of a bitch a piece of his mind. “Home is where your heart is, right?” his voice continued rising. “Home is wherever your friends are! Hell, home might not be where your family is! It might be some shitty cave in the middle of fucking Mexico, but it’s still home! I hate to burst your bubble. Krypton is where you come from, but Earth has been home to you more than you than that dead rock! You had a choice. Now go the fuck HOME!” (1)

For a while, there was silence. And Jason couldn’t pick between crying, or punching or shooting Clark. And if anybody talked it’d be just to ask him to calm down. Well, he wasn’t going to calm down. He wasn’t going to stop hurting Clark back as much as he’d hurt them. So he punched him instead of shooting.

“JASON!” exclaimed Dick. He and Diana rushed to Clark’s side and helped him up.

“I love Daddy’s toys,” Jason put the gun back in the holster on his right thigh, then pressed a kiss to the Kryptonite lined glove. “Goddamn, that felt good,”

“You’re right,” Clark said finally, wiping the blood dripping from his nose with the back of his hand. “Earth did adopt me, and it is my home, and after learning everything I could about Krypton, I believe I’ve earned the right to at least go see its remains—”

“But you have a duty here!” he didn’t want to listen to any more of this. “You don’t mark your mate and leave him with a red neon sign that says ‘MY ALPHA DIDN’T WANT ME SO TAKE ME.’ You don’t leave your pregnant mate alone!”

Clark’s eyes widened. “What?”

“You don’t leave him to raise your child alone!”

That child. The child who was in the other room crying. Who was kidnapped and could have been hurt was his. Bruce got stabbed and shot twice protecting their son. He had a son. “He’s my son…” he said absently.

“Damn right he’s your son!” it was the loudest Jason had been yet. “He had your son and you left him!”

“I’d really appreciate it if you argued somewhere else,” Dr Thompson stepped out of the room. “Now, I want you to stop yelling at this man,”

Jason looked at the doctor, then back at Clark, and hesitantly backed down.

“Good. Now,” she started again. “You can take him home as soon as he’s strong enough. He’s recovering quickly, probably due,” she looked at Clark, “to the presence of his alpha—”

“I’m his alpha!” said Jason, glaring at Clark. Clark didn’t dare disagree.

She sighed. “As I was saying, it might be due to _the_ alpha he partially bonded with,” Dr Thompson continued. “But Mr Kent,” she frowned when Clark looked at him with a pained expression. “I believe it’s best for you to leave. Bruce hasn’t gone back to his regular heat cycle, and your presence might force him to go improperly into heat. And going into heat in his condition right now is going to take a lot of pain killers and a lot of suppressants.”

Dick nodded. “Thank you,” he turned to Clark.

“Kal, we need to go,” said Diana as she took Clark’s arm.

Clark brushed Diana off and stepped away from anyone who was near. “I…” he couldn’t find the words.

He didn’t know whether to apologize, or burst into that room, see Bruce, or to go into the room Conner was in and take a good look at the kid and introduce himself. He didn’t know what to feel. Guilt for causing so much pain to the people around him; regret for not wasting so much time—time that he could have spent finishing his bond with Bruce, taking care of him while he carried their baby, taking care of both of them; anger—mostly at himself—for being so self centered, for thinking only of his own wants.

He had wasted five years. Five years that could’ve been so wonderful.

“I’m sorry, I need to go,” Clark finally managed to say.

He went past Jason and out the door.

“YEAH, GO HOME TO YOUR DEAD ROCK!” he could hear Jason behind him as he flew. The boy had gone after him out of the door. “I’LL NEVER LET YOU SEE THEM! NEVER!”

Conner hopped off the bed, all cleaned up and fresh, opened the door and rushed over to Jason. “Jay!” he cried, putting his arms up, reaching for his big brother. “Jay!”

Jason closed the door to the clinic, and knelt down to catch the child. “Thank God you’re okay,”

“No more yelling please,” Conner said as he put his tiny arms around Jason’s neck. “No more fighting and no more hurt?”

“No more,” he pressed his lips to the child’s forehead, and his nose to his hair. “C’mon. We need to get Bruce home,” he stood up and took the child up with him.

The League watched as Bruce’s boys came together for a group hug, with Conner in the middle, feeling safe and loved in his big brothers’ embrace.

Jason wasn’t going to wait for Bruce to wake up. Someone was sure to come in this clinic, and it was sure that some wild rumour was going to spread and he didn’t want to deal with anything. He was going to bring the hospital to their house, if that’s what it was going to take.

John volunteered to make a stretcher for Bruce so that he could be transported home. Dr Thompson gave Conner a quick look to check if he was alright, and agreed that they could both go home. She had complete faith in Alfred’s medical skills, so she didn’t have to worry.  But she did require them to call her if anything happened.

The League of godparents, minus John, said their goodbyes to their favourite godson, and left him with promises that they were going to visit soon. Conner gave his godparents kisses on their cheeks, then received a little snuggling from Uncle Wally before they left in a beam of white light.

When it came to Bruce and his son’s safety, they spared nothing. Even if he didn’t need to be teleported, if it meant it was going to protect them and their privacy, everybody agreed with it. Besides, the Watchtower _was_ Bruce’s.

John, Bruce and Conner appeared in Bruce’s room, where Alfred was waiting. Dick and Tim were beamed to wherever they left the Batwing, and Jason took his bike home.

“Alfred!” cried Conner, running into his foster grandfather’s arms. “Mommy hurt!”

“Conner! Oh, thank goodness,” Alfred held the child close. “It’s alright. We’re going to help your mother get better, okay? For now, he needs you to be a big boy, okay?”  

Conner nodded. He looked at Uncle John, who was in civilian clothes, set Bruce down gently onto the bed. “Nothing he can’t handle,” said John, “But we have a problem. Well, Jason thinks it’s hell on earth. We’re not sure how to take it quite yet,”

“Ah, yes,” Alfred set Conner down, and started giving Bruce some medical attention. “I hear Mr Kent is back. I’m sure getting back into field work won’t be a problem,”

John watched as Alfred disinfected Bruce’s hand before putting an IV on him. “Yeah, but he is shaken up, even more than Kon. You should’ve seen the look on his face, Alfred, learning what he’d left,”

Alfred pulled up the sheets to Bruce’s chest. Conner climbed up on the bed and carefully placed himself next to his mommy under the sheets. “Night night?” he asked Alfred.

“Don’t you want to have something to drink first, sir?” asked Alfred, “Warm milk?”

Conner shook his head. “Nuh-uh,” he answered.

Alfred frowned a little. “It will be difficult for Mr Kent,” he beckoned John to come with him. He turned off the lights and closed the door.

“Yeah,” John agreed as he followed Alfred out of the room, through the halls and into the kitchen. “Jason was pissed,”

“I’m sure he was, sir,” said Alfred evenly. He poured John a cup of tea, then another three mugs of hot chocolate, and sat with him at the counter. “He always talked about punching him with Bruce’s Kryponite knuckles and shooting him,”

“Oh, he punched him alright,” John took the cup of tea. “Thank you,” he took a sip. “If Clark looked like someone threw his dog to the sun, Jason looked so happy with himself he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry,”  

A moment later, three young men dressed in sweatpants and oversized shirts entered the kitchen, and took their respective mugs from the counter. “He isn’t coming anywhere near here,” said Jason. “I swear, if I catch him here, I’ll fucking shoot,”

“Sir, one more word and I will revoke your coffee privileges,” said Alfred before another argument could start. All three boys stared at the butler. “Thank you. Now, finish those drinks, call Mrs Kent and inform her of tonight, and straight to bed, young sirs. I’m sure Master Bruce will be asking for you first thing in the morning,”

The brothers quietly finished their hot chocolates, deposited their mugs in the sink, and left.

“Whatever your superpowers are, I want them,” said John.

“More tea, sir?”

* * *

 It was a few minutes past midnight. There had to be something he could do to clear his mind.

Clark was mucking out the stables. They only had two horses (2), and thankfully they remembered him. They didn’t neigh or get spooked when he entered the stable. He readied his tools, and the wheelbarrow, and changed into some rubber work boots. He took one of the horses, Ruby, out of her stall and put her in another one. Maybe tomorrow he’d take them out for a ride.  

He parked the wheelbarrow outside of Ruby’s stall, grabbed the pitchfork and started to clean. It didn’t completely clear out his mind, but at least he was doing something. He ended up cleaning the whole of the horse stable, even floating up to the ceiling to dust the trusses and the ceiling.

Halfway into mucking out Sapphire’s, the other horse, stable, Clark found the pitchfork’s hollow metal handle crushed in his hands. He sighed. He loosened his grip and made a mental note to fix it in the morning.

At two thirty, Clark was cleaning out the barn. The barn was as clean when he got there. As clean as Pa could get it. Clark could do it better, because he was a strong, strapping young man. And there he was in the barn, with the pitchfork in his hands, sweat running down his temple with the light of a single bulb and the moon on his back. The cows weren’t paying any attention to him anyways.

“Clark?”

Clark turned around and saw Ma at the door.

“Ma,” said Clark as he wiped the sweat off his forehead with his arm, “What are you doing up?”

Ma entered the barn and pulled the robe around her tighter to shield herself from the cold. “I should be asking you that,” she said, frowning because she knew something was bothering her son. “Come on. Put down that fork and we’ll talk about whatever’s on your mind,”

Clark obeyed and put the pitchfork back in the tool shed, and followed Ma back to the house. She made Clark sit at the table, and made him some hot milk with honey, vanilla and cinnamon. Clark stared at it when Ma set it down in front of him as she sat across from him.

It took a while, but Ma was willing to wait. She wasn’t going to push him to talk; she just knew Clark was going to come to him.

“Did you know?” Clark was still looking at the steaming mug of milk in front of him.

“Yes,” answered Ma.

“How long?”

“A few weeks after he was born,”

Clark closed his eyes, wishing it was all a dream. That he’d wake up soon. That this was maybe one of Scarecrow’s gasses, or maybe a mind controlling villain. Anything to wipe away the pain he’d caused to so many people.

“Having Conner without you took a lot out of him,” Ma continued sadly. “He stayed in France, in a little vacation house until your mark wore off. Your Pa and I stayed with him until he went back to Gotham two years ago,”

Another long moment passed before Clark opened his eyes and spoke again. “He hates me, doesn’t he?” he looked up at his mother.

“No, he doesn’t,”

“You don’t know that,”

“Yes, I do,” Ma insisted. “You know why?”

Clark found himself staring at his mug again, so he looked up at Ma once more. She was genuinely smiling at him now.

“When you were gone, The Daily Planet went through a tough time, enough for it to close down for good. But Bruce bought it so when you came back, you’d still have a job,”

Clark stared at her.

“The day Conner was born?” she continued. “He was wearing one of your flannels all through eight hours of hard work. He named him after you. Conner Joseph,”

His eyes widened in shock and disbelief.

“And to protect you, he gave Conner your surname, but didn’t let him use it. So that when you came back, no one would be going after you. No press, no Omega Rights Group and whatnot,”

Bruce saved his job. He wore his clothes. He wore his clothes when he had their son. He named their son after him. He gave their son his name. He hid his name from the public. That meant he did have a right to them, right?

“That’s how I know he doesn’t hate you. That’s how I know he cares,” Ma reached into the pocket of her robe. “Dick wanted you to have this,” she set a wallet sized photo on the table, and slid it over to Clark.

Clark lifted it off the table, and looked at it closely. It was a recently taken photo of Bruce and four year old Conner. And it was the first time he had gotten a proper look at them.

“He looks so much like you,” said Ma, moving over to Clark so she could look at the photo. “He loves the sun just like you,”

“Ma,” Clark choked out.

“It’s not too late, dear,” Ma pulled Clark to her chest, and Clark hugged back. “There is still hope. I know you’ll do the right thing. And that isn’t mucking out the stables at three in the morning, even if you wanted to clear your head,” she lifted up Clark’s chin so he’d look at her. “You have a family waiting for you, Clark. It’s going to be difficult, but I know you won’t give up,”

Clark looked at the picture again. Yeah. He wasn’t going to give up. Even if Jason had Kryptonite.

Easier said than done.

* * *

 When Alfred told the boys to go to bed after they finished their drinks, he meant for them to go to bed in their own rooms, not in Bruce’s room. Dick was on Bruce’s chaise; Jason was sprawled on the floor opposite Bruce’s bed, lying on his comforter with his pillow by his feet; and Tim was on the sofa, using the cushions as a pillow under some sheets. He sighed as he set the tray down on a nearby table.

“Don’t wake them up,” Bruce groaned. “They look tired,”

“So do you, sir,” said Alfred, moving over to his IV to give him a heavenly dose of painkillers.

“Thank you,” whispered Bruce with a sigh of relief. He sat up, careful not to pull the stitches he knew were there, holding the stab wound together, and careful not to move his leg too much.

Conner stirred beside him, burying himself further into Bruce’s uninjured side, moaning in complaint of the movements Bruce was making. Bruce smiled, happy and relieved that his boy was safe. He ran his hand through the child’s hair. At least that was one obstacle down.

“I’m sure,” Alfred said softly enough for only Bruce to hear.

“I can feel it,” said Bruce, trying his best not to move too much. He could feel that his body wasn’t in the right temperature. “He’s back,” he winced, feeling a sharp pain going up his injured side. He could also feel the tingling in his toes, and a kind of warmth in his gut that threated to fire up. “Keep him away. At least for a few weeks. I don’t want him to disturb my cycle when it hasn’t even started,”

“I believe Master Jason made a few impressive threats,” Alfred handed Bruce a mug of tea. “Enough to give you those few weeks you asked for, with of course, some help from Mrs Kent,”

Bruce chuckled. It was Ma after all. “Has she been informed?” he took a sip of the tea.

“Yes, sir,” Alfred took the mug of tea back when Bruce looked like he’d had enough. “Bruce,” he said seriously. “You know you can’t keep yourself and Conner away from him—”

“I know,” Bruce bit out. “I know. I’ll…have to tell the boys, I know,” he looked warmly over Jason, who was snoring and drooling all over his comforter. He sighed fondly. “He’s going to be so pissed,”

“I heard he punched him,”

“Really?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) “Family is not always home,” – Cass Cain, Red Robin #17  
> (2) I like to think they have horses okay. It’s a farm. xD


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First and foremost (and not because I'm part Chinese), HAPPY LUNAR NEW YEAR EVERYONE!! Hope you have a great time with your family with lots and lots of tasty and sticky nian gao and angbao (hongbao, or ampao, whichever you use), and of course, love!
> 
> So anyways, if there are any inconsistencies with the dynamics, (or if there are any typos) please tell me. I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing. This is my first time writing ABO. 
> 
> Here is a picture of Bruce holding a baby (who looks like Kon, black hair, blue eyes) from Gotham Adventures #36. Thought you might like some visuals. :3
> 
>  

Even though Bruce was perfectly capable of getting around with crutches, Alfred, and his grown boys, (gently) pushed him into a wheelchair. Conner was very glad that his mommy was doing better, though also very sad that he couldn’t sit on his lap, not for a very long while. But he was allowed to sleep beside him, as long as he didn’t move too much so that he wouldn’t hurt Bruce’s injuries.

The other day was pretty fucked up. Bruce was most thankful that Conner wasn’t too traumatized by the events. Conner had told him the man who pinched his cheek smelled really bad and that he tried to pinch him back on his leg when Bruce started beating the shit out of everybody, but then backed away when he heard a snap.

His son broke a kidnapper’s shin bone. Bruce was so proud.

Even if that wasn’t something he should really be proud of considering his four year old child broke someone’s bones, he was without a doubt very proud. But then posed one of the challenges of raising a Kryptonian child: powers. Yes, Conner’s powers didn’t pop up as often as Clark’s did as a child as Ma had said, and there were no breathing problems (1), thank the heavens, but when they did they were either amazing or terrifying. Amazing being the ones where he was able to throw grown men onto a wall, terrible being the ones where he broke a kidnapper’s bones.

Bruce left the relaying of information about his condition, and Dr Thompson’s orders to Dick. He left early, so he was probably holding a meeting in the League conference room. He on the other hand, was going to have a talk with Jason. It was unfortunate that Jason’s victory was short lived.

Jason entered Bruce’s bedroom, where Bruce was on the bed, still looking at the wheelchair that was provided for him. Conner was on the bed with him with a picture book in hand, reading it aloud with Bruce.

“Alfred said you wanted to see me?”

Conner looked up at Bruce. “How about you go play with Tim?” the boy nodded. “We can continue reading later, okay?” he pressed a quick kiss on the boy’s hair, then watched him run out the door.

“Did you put my things back in the cave?” Bruce asked.

“Ye—”

“In their respective vaults?”

“Ehh—no.”

“Put them back. I don’t want you holding anything Kryptonian without my permission, instructions and supervision ever again, do you understand?” he said evenly. He wasn’t mad; he was just trying to get the point across.

“Yes, sir,” said Jason guiltily.

“These things can and will hurt Kon. If he so much as gets a hold of the sharp fragments of the ship Clark arrived in, he can get cut, and however trivial that might sound, and even if it’ll disappear as quickly as the sun touches him, no. And you know very well, and first-hand what Kryptonite does to a Kryptonian. I hope you understand, Jason,”

“I do. Very clearly,” Jason nodded. Of course he understood. That was his little brother. He shared every sentiment Bruce had when it came to Conner’s safety, happiness and health.

“Good,” Bruce lightly nodded as well. “Why don’t you sit down, Jason,”

Jason sat down on the bed. “You okay?” he asked, noticing that Alfred had already taken off Bruce’s IV for the painkillers. “Need anything?”

“No, I’m fine, thank you for asking,” said Bruce tiredly. “I asked Alfred to take off the IV because it scared Conner. The blood didn’t scare him when it climbed the tube, it just made him think I’m very sick. He got it from all the House Tim is watching. So I took oral medication instead,”

Bruce winced as he tried to adjust the pillows on his back. Jason fluffed them up for him and helped him get comfortable. “Your pain medication isn’t what we’re supposed to talk about, is it?”

“No, it isn’t,” he pulled up the sheets so that when Conner came in again he wouldn’t see the bandages. “We are going to talk about Clark, Jason,”

Jason frowned.

“I’ve asked Dick to tell the League that no one is to see me until after my cycle is done,” Bruce curled his toes under the blanket. “Clark set me off, and that’s dangerous. I can feel it, but I don’t think it’ll actually start until the day comes,”

“More reason to shoot then,”

“No, Jason. You’re not shooting anyone,” insisted Bruce. “Alfred told me you punched him. Thank you, it makes me grateful and happy that you did, but that’s it. I know you’re angry, but you have to back down for a while. You can’t keep going after him right now,”

“What?!” exclaimed Jason incredulously. “After all he did! After what he did to you!”

“Yes, I know,” Bruce squeezed Jason’s shoulder in attempt to calm him down. “But we’re dealing with the law here now, Jason. Omega Bruce Wayne, and Alpha Clark Kent, are dealing with the law,”

Jason huffed in anger. “There _are_ no laws for Omegas!” he hissed.

“There are for Alphas,” Bruce said sadly. “Right now, the law takes into consideration your decisions because I’m in your care. Publicly, Conner uses my name, but what if someone finds out? You know what will happen if this gets out,”

“Bruce…” Jason frowned. He did know what would happen if they found out who Conner’s father was. Bruce might lose the rights to him.  

Bruce sighed. “If all goes well, I’ll let you torment him, if that’s what you want,”

Jason squinted his eyes at him suspiciously. “Do I have restrictions?”

Bruce rolled his eyes this time. “No Kryptonite of any color or form, no magic, no shoving him into the Solarium with the Red Sun setting, no summoning of any supernatural being, no learning magic, no asking Zatanna for charmed objects, no denying anyone apple pie, no denying anyone from seeing anyone, no high frequency and high volume sounds, and no threatening with anything previously said,”

“That’s pretty much telling me not to do anything,”

“Well, there’s making him do the dishes you’re scheduled to do on Mondays,” Bruce offered lightly.

Jason paused thoughtfully. “I’ll take it,”  

“No, you’re not allowed to bully him into doing all your chores,”

Dammit. “I’ll still punch him, though,”

* * *

 

Work was probably the only thing going to distract him until he figured out how he was going to approach Bruce. Sure he was a little afraid of Dick and Tim, but he was terrified of Jason, and what he could do. He had been Bruce’s alpha for years, and if he had the power to raid Bruce’s Kryptonite vaults, who knew what else he was capable of getting his hands on?

Being back at the _Planet_ was making him extremely guilty, too. Bruce bought it so he could get his job back. Well, at least everybody had cubicles now, and no one was going to see him with his head on his table, unable to stand up and actually do anything. His computer was open, and so were the gadgets that were connected to it, printer, scanner, etc., and they were all on standby. Clark didn’t have an assignment yet, but he wasn’t going to miss the first day back.

He sat up and sighed. The computer and all the gadgets looked brand new. Maybe Bruce provided them when he bought the Planet. He sure had missed a lot. He stood up and went to get himself a cup of coffee. There was a vending machine for the coffee now, just like the one up on the Watchtower. As soon as he was in front of it, he suddenly lost the desire for a cup.

“Hey, Smallville,”

Clark jumped. “Oh, uh, hey, Lois,” he smiled nervously.

“You okay?” Lois asked worriedly. “Aren’t you supposed to look refreshed after a long vacation?”

“Yes, well,” Clark cleared his throat as he let the vending machine eat the bill he gave it. “The things I came back to weren’t exactly…what I expected I’d come home to. It’s kind of scary—”

“LANE!” came Perry’s voice.

“Sorry, Clark. Coming, chief!” Lois dashed through the cubicles to Perry’s office, leaving Clark with a cup of coffee he really didn’t want.

Clark frowned at his coffee, but drank it anyway. It’d be waste to throw it away. He finished it in a few gulps, and threw he crushed cup in the nearest trash bin. He winced at the heat and bitterness. He hadn’t seen Jimmy around yet, so maybe he was safe from the interrogation about his so called vacation.

When he got back to his cubicle, his printer started printing. He brought the computer out of standby, and there was no indication whatsoever that it was printing any document saved in it. It was when he looked at the document being printed that he panicked. Clark grabbed the document as soon as it was finished printing, but then the printer started printing another, and another.

‘Oh, Rao,’ he thought as he saw the letter head come out of the printer first.

_DEPARTMENT OF STATE_

_FOREIGN SERVICE OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA_

_REPORT OF BIRTH_

_CHILD BORN ABROAD OF AMERICAN PARENTS OR PARENT_

He slumped down on his office chair. Okay, so maybe he didn’t think about the legal ramifications of being an alpha marking, impregnating and leaving an omega to fend for himself and the child. It didn’t even cross his mind.

He took the document and frowned when he saw the data typed in. The info for the father was blank. Bruce’s info wasn’t completely in it, too, but maybe that had to be done to protect himself.

He let the printer continue printing. There were more legal documents, about Bruce being in the care of another alpha whose name was blurred out.

He read through the documents, thankful there was no one checking up on him while he did. He fixed up the papers, and put them in a brown envelope that was lying around, then looked at the last piece that was printed.

_Clark,_

_Be careful with these. Don’t let anyone see them. Not even Lois. Bruce didn’t give Conner your name for nothing._

_Dick_

_PS. Tim says sorry if he made you think your printer is haunted. Or if your computer had been hacked. Technically it had been but no one that wants to bring down The Planet. He says hi._

He flew the documents back to his apartment before going up to the Watchtower.

* * *

 

When he entered the League conference room, Dick was standing at the capital, with all the others seated, looking very unimpressed. (2) Clark could say he was channelling Bruce pretty damn well. As soon as he sat down, Dick pulled back the cowl. Wally pulled back his as well.

“This might not be official League business,” started Dick, “But this is everybody’s business,” he looked at Clark. “I take it you’ve received all the legal documents?”

“Yes,” Clark nodded. And the photo. “Thank you. Not just for the documents,” 

“According to Dr Thompson,” he continued, giving everybody glances. “Bruce will recover, like he always does. She’s prescribed him both oral and intravenous painkillers and medicine to prevent infection. Both sustained gunshots did not fracture any bones, and no vital organs were damaged from the stab wound,”

Dick paused, and took a breath. Bruce may have been injured many times on the field, but this might be a different case to everyone.

“However, even if he is stronger due to your presence of the alpha he partially bonded with, no one is allowed to see him or the child until after the resumption of his cycle. That may be weeks from now,” he continued.

Clark would’ve let out a sad whine if he were a dog. But he had to get his shit together and keep calm. Even Dick wouldn’t call him Bruce’s alpha. He deserved that.

“You especially, Clark, are not allowed in Gotham at all,” Dick looked directly at him. Clark wasn’t going to say he’d changed completely, but it did look like Bruce’s children had been forced to grow up once again. “Your return set him off, and Bruce is now on the verge of untimely heat. He will be on a prescribed and safe cocktail of painkillers and heat suppressants,”

“I’m sorry,” frowned Clark.

“I know you are for a lot of things,” Dick sighed dejectedly. “But first thing’s first, I’d like you to know that the senior roster of the Justice League, is your son’s godparents, so it is given that they know everything,”

For a moment, Clark wanted to lock himself up in the Fortress for a few weeks. But he’d escaped his duties for too long already.

“Bruce will be the one to introduce Conner to you, no one else,” said Dick levelly. “We are giving him that right. You are not legally listed as Conner’s father or Bruce’s Alpha. You aren’t listed, nor are you acknowledged. Your name isn’t on Conner’s birth report when he was born in France, nor is it on his birth certificate when Jason and I arranged his papers. Do you understand that, Clark? And do you understand why?”

There was nothing he could do but nod. He recalled the papers he had received earlier that day. Most of the ones that required information on both parents weren’t completely filled out.

“Do you really?” frowned Wally.

Clark didn’t know where everybody was getting his patience with him. Dick still sounded relatively calm. If he were in his place he would probably have already beaten himself to death already.

Dick took a deep breath. Before he could say anything, John spoke.

“To give you the jist, Clark, you made Bruce a whore,” said John. “Which is why,” stood up as his voice rose, “You should be thankful those punks wanted money and not someone to fuck!”

“John!” Shayera made John sit back down. “Hey,” she said softly as she rubbed comforting circles on John’s back. 

Dick waited for John to calm down before he spoke. Clark looked shocked and shaken up enough. “If none of his family were an alpha, Bruce would be up for grabs, like a TV on Black Friday, to any alpha who steps up and offers to care for him. Not bond, or mate, but to care for,”

“And breed,” Wally added not so helpfully. That earned him looks for Shayera and Diana. “What?”

“Thank you, Wally,” Dick bit out. “Now,” he continued, “I assume you already know which alpha we’re talking about. And I’m pretty sure he’ll do anything and everything to make sure you earn your non legal rights to see your mate and son,”

Clark stared at Dick, unable to absorb everything he had just heard without freaking out. His brain to mouth filter was unresponsive, so he immediately said, “I’ll do anything you want. Just don’t…don’t keep them away from me,” he begged.

“Correction,” said Dick, “You’ll do anything and everything Jason wants.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) In Man Of Steel, Ma mentioned that she used to watch Clark breathe, because he was having a hard time breathing.  
> (2) Like the table they had at Young Justice. No one sits at the capital, only at the sides. In JLU, their conference room had a round table. 
> 
> I don't have anything to say for myself. 
> 
> I'm sorry. 
> 
> You know why I'm trying to torture (I'm trying, I swear) Clark? Because he had his eyes on Diana the whole time on JL:War. I'm very upset about that. I'm upset about the fact that a woman who grew up with women, believing men are dirty little shits, fell in love with one at first sight. 
> 
> CLARK DIDN'T HAVE ENOUGH TIME WITH BRUCE, OKAY?
> 
> But that's okay. Justice League: War was Hal and Bruce's first date. Hal even has a petname for Bruce: Spooky. I love it. I'm on that ship now. Bruce is going to enjoy a lot of kinky stuff with Hal. I'll probably write a little fic soon. Hopefully it's tiny.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that last chapter made sense. And I hope everybody liked the tiny baby Bruce was holding. <3 
> 
> Unbeta'd. Mistakes are mine.

“The Godparents can, however, contact Bruce’s personal phone anytime, and initiate a conference call with him in this room,” said Dick as a closing remark. “Clark, you are also not yet allowed to establish communication with Bruce and Conner. Any kind of sensory contact might pull him over the edge,” he put the cowl back own, and Wally followed.

Everybody was sitting upright suddenly, as if their alter egos have taken over. It wasn’t that Dick was channelling Bruce’s aura, it was just…they, his teammates, especially Dick, were disappointed in him. Disappointed didn’t even cut it. 

Clark half listened as Dick continued on the things that were new in the Watchtower, such as member seniority, and that missions were assigned according to experience. Or that the seniors had rotations on who had to train who in the junior roster.

“Superman,” Dick looked at him through the cowl’s lenses. “Mr Terrific will assign you to where you are needed. Only _I_ can assign monitor duty,” he pulled up a screen behind him and something that looked like a spreadsheet appeared. “You are given only one shift a week, no overnights unless you want them. Mr Terrific can void your hours if and only if you are demanded somewhere else,”

Batman closed the screen, and turned back to Superman. “I trust getting back into field work won’t be a problem. Welcome back to the Justice League, Superman. Meeting adjourned.” And with that, Batman left the room.

He was left there on his own in the conference room, standing by the window looking down at earth. He could hear Bruce reading to their son, and Conner repeating the words after him. He could hear him blowing raspberries on their son’s neck. He could hear them laughing. Bruce’s was low, happy and genuine. Their son’s was high pitched, excited and rambunctious.

He pulled out the photo from the pocket he had in his cape. He’d been staring at it since he received it from his Ma. He feared he might accidentally burn it. He just couldn’t stop staring at it. He’d always found reproduction amazing. How two people could get together and make something as precious as life. And now he was looking at a child in a photo, laughing and happy and alive, and Bruce made that for him.

A life. Made out of Bruce and him. A little ball of energy and giggles and love, who needed both parents to teach him his first words, to help him make his first step. He didn’t know whether to cry or go find an asteroid ten times as big as Earth and start mashing it to pieces.

His friends wouldn’t look him in the eye. Bruce retired. He wasn’t even allowed to be in the same city with them. That was how much he fucked up, and he still couldn’t fathom, let alone absorb the amount of fuckery he’d done.

He sighed and went to the living quarters. Clark was a little relieved the seniors’ quarters were a level above the sophomores’ and juniors’. It was going to be really awkward walking into Superman looking down in the dumps.

Clark had been lying on his bed staring at the ceiling four about five minutes when he succumbed to restlessness, went to the hangars, and exited out one of the gates. He headed for Metropolis. Someone’s cat was stuck up a tree.

After a long day of trying to at least greet the people of Metropolis, he went come, tried to avoid the brown envelope of documents, and cleaned his apartment. He didn’t do it at super speed, or blew all the dust away with a breath. He did it the old fashioned way.

Being gone so long wasn’t a good thing for his house. He didn’t know what to call the monstrosity that used to be a bar of soap in the soap dish in the shower. He had no idea what kind of liquid was inside the shampoo bottle when he drained it. He had to throw away some canned goods in his pantry, and half a box of cornflakes made its way into the trash bin as well. He had to vacuum every inch of his apartment.

He even had to go out to buy some household cleaning products in the middle of the night. There was a twenty four hour mini-grocery store nearby so that was easy. He didn’t hurry. With groceries in both hands, he took the stairs down, and he took the stairs up.

At least it killed off time. When he was cleaning out the barn and the stables back in Smallville, he wanted to take his mind off the shitstorm he came home to. Now, he just wanted the time to pass by so he could go see Bruce, as unready as he was to meet his son—as unready as he was to face the responsibility of a life that was to depend on him, to mould a mind, to be an example and a role model more than the face he was the public.

Did Bruce even mention him to the child? Had his older sons said anything negative about him? Then again, he deserved those bitter words. And maybe, he thought, the child didn’t deserve to hear anything like that either. To be told he had a father who left his mother; to feel that he was unwanted by the very person who had to care and protect him; to feel like his father wanted nothing to do with them.

But he wanted everything to do with them. He wanted every single thing.  That child was his. His blood, his flesh—a member of his house.

An El.

Did Bruce give him a Kryptonian name? Did Bruce even _think_ of giving him a Kryptonian name? Would Bruce even let him give the child a Kryptonian name? Would _Jason_ let Bruce let him give the child—Conner—a Kryptonian name?

Suddenly there was a crack. When he looked at his hands, he had crushed one of his dishes. He had a dishwasher, but what was the point of doing everything the old fashioned way?

He sighed and pulled put the broken plate into the trash bin. He was probably going to break a lot of things in his house.

Tomorrow he’d wash his clothes and bring his sheets to the dry cleaners.  

* * *

 

Commissioner Gordon, Clark heard from the TV when he used the news as background noise while he was still straightening up his apartment a few days later, had helped the police of Metropolis to clean up the mess in the warehouse the League found Bruce and his son in.

“Mr Wayne and his son,” he heard Gordon speaking as cameras clicked and flashed, “Are safe and resting,”

He was ironing his clothes. He turned off the iron and stepped out from his room and into the living room. He grabbed the remote from the coffee table and turned the volume up. But he found raising the volume was useless since Gordon was already going down the stairs through the sea of reporters.

“Commissioner!” a female reporter almost shoved her microphone in his face. “Is this kidnapping about the alpha who fathered Mr Wayne’s son?”   

“No comment,” Gordon shoved back at her, and he slid into a police cruiser.

He sighed and turned the TV off. He still had to iron the rest of the week’s clothes.

* * *

 

Clark avoided getting assignments that required him to go to Gotham. He’d been given short assignments. Random articles about random events in the city. Besides, it wasn’t like Bruce took any more people to interview him. Most of the time, as he had discovered, Dick, Jason and Tim spoke on behalf of him, but never answered questions about Bruce or Conner. Nothing was ever disclosed about them.

Some people were just too hungry for information about Bruce. The only thing that came out though the people’s efforts was Conner’s name. Dick was probably on the street talking to Bruce on the phone when the name slipped.

Still, as high up on the social ladder as Bruce was, a pregnant omega was frowned upon. Clark thanked every divine being in the heavens that Bruce had amazing children.

Frowned upon. Badly talked about. Lowly thought of. Rao, what had he done?

He also wasn’t given any missions near Gotham. There weren’t any apocalyptic situations, so the senior members were rarely put into a mission together. Rather, on some not so gravely threatening instances, more experienced members are paired up with less experienced members as part of training. The seven seniors being mixed up with different juniors and sophomores.

Right now, a week after his return, he was wandering about the Watchtower because he hadn’t been assigned hours on monitor duty yet. He had just arrived when several of his teammates were simultaneously deployed with junior members. He hadn’t seen Dick around anywhere either.

He wandered around some more, and ended up in the cafeteria, where he was about to bite into a bagel when he heard J’onn’s voice in his head.

 _Superman,_ said the Martian, _come to the conference room please_.

Clark dropped the bagel and flew out of the cafeteria. When he got there, there was only him and J’onn. The Martian locked the door.  

“Uh…J’onn?” he said cautiously.

“I have just been informed that Bruce has gone into heat,”

* * *

 

Conner curled into Jason’s chest. The alpha held the frightened child close, whispering reassurances that his mother was going to be alright. Bruce had to be restrained so that he wouldn’t hurt himself. They wouldn’t have had to restrain him if he weren’t injured. But he was, and thrashing like that and he’d tear his stitches open and injure his shot leg further.

Only Alfred was allowed in Bruce’s room. A few times every day, to feed him and clean the mess. Alfred said his heat might last longer than the last one that conceived Conner, because his body knew he had an alpha. The boys prayed it was just going to be a few days. Hopefully it wasn’t going to be longer than a week, because Bruce’s body was already too weak to go through that. And being unconscious the whole time wasn’t going to help; it was only going to be more stress on Bruce when his heat ends and he regains consciousness.

“Mommy hurting again,” Conner cried. Mommy sort of comes out when he’s worried or scared.

“No, mommy’s not hurting again,” said Dick, coming into the room with three coloured glasses, a small one for Conner, and a huge Tupperware of Conner’s favourite brownies: butterscotch.

Well, technically he was, but not in the way Conner was thinking.

Tim, who had a gallon of cold milk in one hand, was behind Dick and closed the door. “His body is just preparing for something, okay?” he poured milk into Conner’s no spill cup, and handed it to him.

“Alfred says it’s about Mommy being a ‘mega,” he sniffled, as he took the cup from his big brother. “You’re a ‘mega, Timmy,” he frowned, big fat tears threatening to spill from his eyes once again. “You’ll hurt too!”  

“No, no,” said Tim, taking the child from Jason. He held him close, and started swaying around lightly, and rubbing circles on his back as if he were putting a child to sleep to calm Conner down. “It’s okay. It’s part of life. I promise, Bruce will be back before you know it, okay? And you’ll be able to sleep beside him again and read stories with him,”

Dick took the cup before Conner let it go, and wrapped his arms around Tim’s neck. He wanted to frown too. His poor baby brothers. Tim was closer to getting into his first heat. Jason was probably stressed as fuck. And the littlest brother was so scared Dick didn’t know what to do.

“Give me that!” Jason grabbed the Tupperware from Dick’s hands, popped it open and shoved a brownie into his mouth. “I sweh fis is gon ta bee a yong yeek,” he said as he chewed.

Dick pulled a Gibbs on him. “Don’t talk with your mouth full!”

Jason swallowed. “You watch too much NCIS!”

“Guys,” said Tim, looking very unimpressed with immature big brothers. “Crying, scared child here,”

"Sorry," both men chorused. Jason glared at Dick as he put another brownie in his mouth. Dick stuck his tongue at Jason.

Okay, so maybe the brownies didn’t work. Dick thought it might make Conner feel better. Obviously it didn’t. It only made Jason’s caveman tendencies arise. Now he felt worse because, his baby brother was crying and goddamn he felt guilty as fuck.

“Don’t hog it,” Dick snatched the Tupperware back from Jason and put a square into his mouth. He sat beside Jason on the bed, and Tim went to the rocking chair by the window to help calm Conner.

Tim continued rubbing circles on Conner’s back. He’d been crying since he realized he hadn’t seen Bruce for a while, and when his hearing kicked in and he heard Bruce’s cries of pain. He even tried to punch Bruce’s door down.  

It’s going to be a long week, and Tim could only hope that his brothers would be able to keep it together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anybody wants a firing squad to shoot me, you're welcome. 
> 
> I have no idea what I'm doing anymore. 
> 
> I don't think Clark has suffered enough. 
> 
> Let me burn one of his tweeds.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I literally had no idea what I was doing writing this so uh. Just. Yeah. 
> 
> Unbeta'd. Mistakes are mine.

Clark didn’t wait for J’onn to say another word. “I need to…” he took a step back, “I need to go help him,”

“Superman!” said J’onn, “Wait!”

But Clark had already burst out the door, down to the hangars, and out the dock doors. Even if Dick had told him he was to stay away until the heat had passed, he wasn’t going to let Bruce go through it alone. He thought it’d come by the time Bruce was well enough to walk or help himself. But it didn’t, and Bruce was in pain. Maybe he could lessen that pain just a little bit.

* * *

 

Jason stood up and went to his room. If he didn’t know any better, Clark was already on his way here asking to at least help Bruce through his heat. He wasn’t _that_ much of an asshole. If it could help Bruce in anyway, of course he’d agree to it.

He wasn’t afraid to admit that he’d been pretty stupid when Clark arrived. What they both did was inexcusable. He was the Wayne Alpha, and he was the one who made decisions for the family. He was also man enough to admit that he hadn’t been making the best decisions. Especially for Bruce. Anger had gotten the best of him, and he had threatened Clark that he’d never let him see them.

Not the best Alpha move.

He sighed as he closed his door.

Besides, being angry wasn’t going to solve anything. Sure, it was a kind of motivation to make Clark’s life a living hell, and that it made him decide to keep Bruce and Conner away from him when Conner was a newborn, but it’s not like it was going to undo the last five years. It wasn’t going to make Clark change his mind into staying the day he decided to leave five years ago.

And to be honest, Jason had to admit, he’d probably not change anything that happened the last five years. Conner was born; he was Bruce’s entire world, hugs and kisses and love wrapped up in one tiny person. He came home; he thought he’d regret it, but he didn’t. He was important under the roof his own home—he was needed and loved.

He grabbed a box from his dresser, and went back to the room where his brothers were in. He threw the box at Dick, who had to quickly put the Tupperware of brownies down to catch the box. “Give it to him when he arrives,” he said, taking the Tupperware from the bed and shoving one of the squares into his mouth. “I don’t want to see his face,”

“Uh…wait, what?” Dick stared at the box of condoms in his hands. “Are you sure this is even gonna work?”

Tim saw the box and reddened. “Could you hide that before he asks what those are!” he hissed.

“Even if it tears,” said Jason, taking the gallon of milk and attempting to drink from it. “Bruce is on birth control like I asked Dr Thompson,”

Dick took the gallon from him and poured him a glass. “You’re such a caveman. That is disgusting. I can’t believe you make decisions for this family,”

“You and me both,” Jason downed the whole glass, put it on the bedside drawer and wiped he milk moustache away with his arm. “I definitely need a beer or probably something stronger, and a smoke,”

“CANDY!” Conner squealed when he saw the colourful box on the bed. (1) “I want the candy, Timmy!”

“I told you to hide that!” Tim stood up and tried to get Conner as far away from the bed as possible.  

“I want candy!” Conner frowned at Tim as he pointed to the box on the bed.

“That isn’t candy, sweetheart,” said Tim, glaring at Jason who was smirking at him. “You can have a brownie, though,”

“Brownie!” Conner repeated happily.

Dick handed Tim a square and Conner’s milk, and watched Tim feed their little brother small pieces of the baked good. “Okay. I am going to take a nap. I’m running on an hour’s sleep. Lucius can handle everything at work,” he crawled under the covers, and was asleep within moments.

“You were saying something about not seeing his face?” Tim smirked at Jason, who glared at him.

“Yummy!” Conner tried to take the whole square from Tim, who went back to sit down on the rocking chair.

“No, Kon, don’t,” Tim put Conner on his lap, then put tore another piece from the square to feed it to him. At least Conner somehow distracted by the food. Tim did not want to be the one to explain to Bruce why Conner thought condom boxes were candy, or why he knew what condoms looked like in the first place.

Jason grumbled, took the box, and put it in the drawer in the bedside table. He slowly got up from the bed so as not to wake Dick up, and went over to Tim and Conner. “C’mere, you,” Jason lifted Conner from Tim’s lap.

“I miss mommy,” he pouted at Jason.

“He’ll be back soon,” Jason told his baby brother as he pressed a kiss to his hair. “For now, you need to be a big boy, okay? Timmy will take care of you for the meantime,”

“Okay,” Conner nodded and yawned.

“You need sleep, too,” Jason turned to Tim. “Go take a nap. I’ll be waiting for him,” he set Conner down on the bed next to Dick. “Make sure Dick doesn’t turn him into a teddy bear,” he told Tim as he watched him get under the covers.

“Try not to destroy the house, okay?” said Tim, and pulled the sheets up.

“Keyword, ‘try,’” he took the box from the drawer, and left the room, headed for the terrace Clark usually landed on.

* * *

 

When Clark flew into Gotham, he didn’t expect Jason to be waiting at the terrace he usually met Bruce at. He didn’t have any excuse or explanation in mind, but then again he could just try to fly away from the city as fast as possible if Jason was armed Kryptonite loaded gun.

Thankfully, with a few second x-ray scan, Jason wasn’t carrying anything that could be used as a weapon. Then again anything on the balcony could be turned into a weapon when the bats and the birds were concerned. Suddenly, landing next to that chair looked dangerous.

“So you are as stupid as I think you are,” said Jason as Clark landed on the terrace. He couldn’t believe this was one of those cliché things he saw Clark and Lois do. And Clark was doing it to him. Blue skies, partly cloudy, the sun shining, and Superman landing on a terrace. He wanted to hurl.

Before Clark could speak, Jason threw at him a shirt, a pair of sweatpants and the box of condoms. The clothes landed on Clark’s face, and the box of condoms almost made it to the lawn had Jason thrown it any harder. At first he was confused, but then the box of condoms. “Y-you’ll let me?” he pulled the sweatpants off his face. “You’ll let me help?”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’ll let you help him,” he said calmly, “But if you do anything I won’t like, I’ve talked to Zatanna and I’ll pull a rabbit out of your ass, you hear me?”

“Yessir,” Clark nodded immediately.

“Get out of that stupid cape before anyone sees you,” he frowned at the colourful costume, “He’s on birth control, but still use the rubber. I can’t stand the scent of your skin on his skin, and I doubt I’ll hate anything coming from you on him and in him any less,” and went back in the house, head for his room.

He grabbed a pack of cigarettes he’d been hiding in his drawers together with a lighter, and went down to the kitchens where Alfred was preparing some snacks for later, went past him, and grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the shelves.

“Sir, please put that back,” said Alfred as he popped the apple pies into the oven. “You are setting a bad example for your brothers,”  

“I bought this, this is mine and I need this,” he opened the bottle and took a swig. “I just let another alpha enter my house, and fuck my little brother’s mother. I think I deserve a light and drink,” he left the kitchen, headed for the cave.

“Be sure to use the air freshener and use the ashtray in the cave, sir,” Alfred said as Jason left. He still had homemade ice cream to make and Jason was old enough to clean after himself. “And please don’t come anywhere near the young master smelling like a drunkard,”  

“Yeah, yeah,” said Jason as he lit one of his cigarettes, and brought it to his mouth. He took a long drag, then let the smoke out in the cave.

Okay, so maybe he promised no threatening. Bruce was technically unconscious, so he was sure he didn’t hear that. Bruce was probably going to know anyway. But he was going to cross that bridge when he got there.

* * *

 

In a burst of speed, Clark had already changed out of his cape and into the more comfortable clothes and reappeared at Bruce’s door. The scent hit him like a brick wall. He wasn’t really attracted to it the last time Bruce had gone into heat but now—

“Alpha!” Bruce cried. “Please!”

A heartbeat later, Clark was in the room, undoing Bruce’s restraints. “I’m here,” he said, “I’m here, Bruce,” the sheets were soaked in Bruce’s sweat and slick and his skin was warm; and Clark didn’t even know what to do.

He didn’t know what was safe to do. Jason probably hated everything he was doing right now, but neither of them had the choice.

The last time he was in this situation, Bruce was still aware of what was happening around him. And he was told what to do and not to do, but that was a long time ago. What if Bruce didn’t want him doing this?

Having an alpha near felt even worse for Bruce. He was burning, and he felt like ripping his skin off. “Please,” he begged breathlessly as he squirmed and whimpered. “Please do something, Alpha!” when he felt a hand on his hip, it was both hot and cold at the same time. It cooled his skin down, but the fire inside him intensified, “PLEASE!”

Bruce reached up and tried to get the alpha as close to him as possible. So that their skin would touch and somehow this fire underneath his skin would be put out. “Please…”

* * *

 

“He did _WHAT_?” Shayera exclaimed incredulously when J’onn told the League of Godparents where Clark had gone. “After Dick _specifically_ told him to stay away?”

J’onn sighed. “Maybe I shouldn’t have told him,”

John facepalmed in his seat and shook his head. “As soon as his heat’s over we’ll take turns visiting. We can’t all go at the same time,”

So maybe they’d all been a little too hard on him. But they were all given orders to stay away. At least until after Bruce’s heat. But apparently, Clark was just as hard headed as he was before he left. And they weren’t helping either. They all let their emotions get the best of them, and Clark was left to deal with his alone.

“No,” said Diana thoughtfully, “We’ll let them know that we want to visit. And we’ll see if we are allowed to see him. Heats are not easy,”

“No, they aren’t,” a screen appeared at the head of the conference table.

“How’s he doing, Jason?” Wally asked. He, like his teammates, were relieved that someone had called to update them on Bruce’s situation. “Is Clark there?”

“Is Conner okay?” asked Shayera.

“Yes, Conner is okay,” answered Jason, ignoring the query about Clark. He puffed his cigarette, and set it down in the ashtray beside him. “He’s a little upset that he hasn’t seen Bruce in about half a day now. And I’m sure there will be non-stop crying for the next few days,” he sighed. “He’s taking a nap right now, and I am going to get wasted, because I just let another alpha fuck my brother’s mother,”

“Uh…” said John, “Very colourful choice of words there, but are you even allowed to smoke and drink in the cave?”

“I’ll let another alpha fuck your mother, let’s see how you try to keep cool,” Jason finished the cigarette he had earlier, then lit another one.

“What the fuck?” said Shayera as John scowled at the screen.

“I’m not sure that’s what he meant…” said Wally diffidently.

“Alright, enough,” said Diana dismissively. “You will cease using such crude language, child,”

Jason took a long swig of the whiskey. “Fine, Your Highness,” he said. “Clark is currently rutting into Bruce’s wet, and needy cunt. How’s that for crude?”

Diana huffed angrily, crossed her arms and didn’t answer.

“Dude, are you sure you’re okay?” Wally frowned at him worriedly.

“Oh, yeah I’m peachy,” Jason said sarcastically and set the bottle down, and set aside his douchebaggery. “On a more important and serious note, Bruce isn’t on suppressants,” he informed them.

“What?” the League chorused.

“What do you mean he isn’t on suppressants?” asked J’onn. “Isn’t that going to make his heat more difficult?”

“Dick said he’d be on suppressants,” said John.

He took another drag of the cigarette and blew out the smoke to his side. “Yes. Initially, Dick and I asked Dr Thompson to put him under painkillers and suppressants, but suppressants have to be taken weeks before the heat actually comes for it to work, so taking them a few days right before it happens isn’t going to do anything. His grand entrance forced Bruce into heat. He wasn’t supposed to be back into his regular cycle at least a month or two more,”

Nobody was reacting to he was saying, so he continued.

“I knew he was going to be stupid enough to try and come to the manor if ever Bruce was going to untimely go into heat, so the suppressants turned into birth control, which Bruce had been on already right after the rescue. I gave him a box of condoms. Any questions?”

“When can we see them?” asked Shayera immediately.

“Dick will tell you,” answered Jason. “Conner won’t be sharing Bruce for a while right after the heat. He’ll be staying with Tim until everything’s over,”

“And Clark?”

Jason paused thoughtfully. “I’ll have to figure out how to pull a rabbit out of his ass without talking to Zatanna,” he finished the cigarette. “Dick will be up there in a few hours. He’s sleeping. I’ll be making sure the cave smells like lavenders before Alfred gets down here. Red Hood out.”  

The members of the League looked at each other. “I’m not sure I understand the part about the rabbit,” said J’onn, and the others just sighed and shook their heads.   

* * *

 

For all Bruce knew, he’d been out of it for days. But for a few moments, he had realized he was lucid and very much aware of his surroundings. He felt sticky, and wet, and there was this numbing pain everywhere, most of it in his leg and on his side. He looked up, and he saw Clark. Slowly, his body regained consciousness, and then he was choking on air, panting and moaning at the sensations.

He was being fucked. And it felt so good Bruce had to throw his head back and dig his nails into Clark’s upper arms. He had just come from his dick—dry orgasm—and he didn’t know whether he was getting enough air or not.

Clark was here. He was here.

“Please,” he whispered.

Clark gasped and had to stop. “Bruce,” he whispered back as he gingerly brought a calloused hand to Bruce’s sweaty face. Bruce was conscious.

He didn’t want to talk like this. He wanted to talk to Bruce when he wasn’t in a hurry trying to say everything in a small window of lucidity his heat allowed him. He didn’t want to talk about this while buried deep inside Bruce’s wet folds.

“Don’t leave,” Bruce breathed as his vision started to go black again. “Please don’t leave again,” he sobbed, reaching up for Clark’s face. “We have a baby. A beautiful, beautiful boy. He looks like you. So much like you. Please don’t leave him—!”

Even in heat, Bruce was thinking of nothing but the best for Conner.

“I won’t,” Clark tried not to cry, “I won’t. I won’t leave him. I won’t leave you,”

He had to think positive. Even if this was what he had reduced Bruce to, at least, Bruce had turned into one of the most amazing things ever in existence: a mother. A pretty damn good one, too, he was sure of it.

He pulled out, hoping the heat was over. But of course it wasn’t; they still had a day or two left. He had hoped to talk to Bruce a little longer, but it seemed that it was going to have to wait. His movements made Bruce go over the edge and climax, convulsing, shaking and writhing under him as his vaginal orgasm wracked through his body, soaking Clark and the bed once more with copious amounts of fluid.

“Bruce?” Clark cupped Bruce’s face, “Bruce,” he said again, but Bruce had already passed out; the heat wave had passed for now.

Clark got off the bed, and tried to clean up as best as he could, then took a cold shower. When Bruce woke up he was probably going to be unaware still, but awake enough to be able to eat and drink. There was a fruit bowl on the coffee table near the fireplace, and several bottles of water. Later, he’d feed Bruce pieces of apples or oranges maybe, and let him drink water through a straw. Like he’d done the last few days.

He was thankful though, that this heat wasn’t as bad as the last one they spent together. The heat was nearing its end, Bruce didn’t get a fever, and his stubbornness about not eating didn’t lead him to dehydration.

He hadn’t seen the child around either, even if he had already been out and about the manor, and when he took something from the kitchen to eat when the food Alfred had brought up had gone. When Bruce was asleep and not asking, he could hear the boys trying to get on with their lives normally. Dick would go to work, Jason would finish his coursework, Tim had been excused from school to take care of Conner, and Conner…had been crying a lot, demanding for his mother.

Before he’d left, Bruce’s room was bare. It didn’t look too lived in, and there weren’t much on the tables and on the sill of the fireplace. It was much different now. There were storybooks on the coffee tables, toys by the fireplace, even Conner’s clothes in Bruce’s dresser and his tiny shoes here and there. There were crayon marks on the walls, which Clark chuckled at the thought of Alfred losing his patience with all the writings on his walls.

One pair was by the fireplace, amongst the toys on the play mat. Clark picked it up.  He smiled, thinking what his own mother’s reactions to seeing Conner’s first milestones. Until he was allowed to meet Conner, he was going to have to just see what he’d missed through the many framed photos around Bruce’s room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) My best friend (a guy) and I were out one night when we were in high school and we went in a convenience store. I didn’t know what condom packaging looked like so I picked one up and said, “Are these candy?” and he grabbed it and put it back and said, “Put those down! Those are condoms!” so uh. Yes. Ignorant me.
> 
> Holy shit it was so weird writing this. Especially because Bruce had lady bits. Lololol


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the last time I updated this was February 23rd, and it’s been way past a month already, and I’m sorry. I had been doing my thesis for the last month or so, and I had to finish a fic [ [Waiting For Superman](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1400035)] for a friend, who helped me finish it because he’d been giving me so many beautiful ideas to move it along. This is shameless plug if you want to read it. Terribly sorry for the delay. I was planning to update this at least every week and at most every two weeks, but that didn’t happen.
> 
> Also, whoever commented on the other story and said that “you’re obviously giving up on MaU,” cuz I haven’t updated in a while and posted “Waiting For Superman,” fuck you. I actually have a life. It doesn’t revolve around writing fanfics. 
> 
> And another thing. For the people who mentioned my thesis in the comments. Guess what! I failed again. Apparently whatever I do is never good enough for the thesis panel. 
> 
> This is pretty much badly written. And I have no idea where I’m going and what I’m doing. I’m still not myself yet from the thesis failure. I just wanted to give you guys something.
> 
> Unbeta'd. Mistakes are mine.

Conner almost completely broke down Bruce’s door down one morning, three days into Bruce’s heat, sobbing for his mother. He had punched through the door, and almost tore it from its hinges, getting wood and splinters everywhere. Jason had been the one to take him away from the door. Tim was the one watching him, but Conner had thrown a fit and almost broke Tim’s jaw, and gave him some pretty bad bruises on his arms and chest. Tim was relieved of babysitting duty, and Jason was the one who took over.

Alfred gave Tim a thorough check, and declared that there were no broken or bruised bones, only bad bruises under the skin, and that Tim’s jaw was perfectly fine much to Jason’s relief. He asked Alfred not to call Dick, who was at a very important meeting he was probably sleeping in.

“I WANT MOMMY!” Conner screamed as he wailed, flailing in Jason’s arms as he put the child down on his bed.

“I know you do,” said Jason sadly, “But mommy can’t be with you right now. He’s sick and he needs to get better first before you can go to him. You need to calm down, okay, Kon?”

“NO!”

The alpha sighed. He had absolutely no idea how Tim could have gone through this the last few days. He didn’t know what to say or do. “Conner, please understand, okay? Mommy is sick,” he tried again, “Remember when mommy got hurt? It’s like that; he can’t see anyone right now—”

“FIX MOMMY!” Conner demanded. “I WANT TO SEE MOMMY!”

Now, Jason felt like crying himself as he looked at his baby brother’s red, tear streaked face.

And that’s when Tim heroically barged into his room wearing one of Bruce’s shirts. Behind him was Alfred, who was strongly against coming near the super-powered toddler for the time being.

“Sir, please,” frowned Alfred, “You’ve sustained very bad bruising—”

But Tim had already gathered the young boy into his arms and started to softly sing the song Bruce used to lull Conner to sleep. “Sshh,” Tim whispered, rubbing the child’s back gently. “He’ll be back soon,” ignoring the stinging in his chest and ribs, he held his brother close, and was glad that his cries were turning into small hiccups.

“Mommy,” Conner hiccupped, momentarily comforted by the scent of Bruce’s shirt on Tim, and the song.

“You don’t have to be a big boy for much longer,” said Tim as he sat down on the bed. “When you’re allowed to see Bruce, you can have him for as long as you like, okay?”

Conner nodded. “Sing mommy’s song more?” he asked as he curled into Tim.

“Yeah, I’ll sing mommy’s song,” Tim said into Conner’s hair.

“I miss mommy lots and lots, Timmy,” hiccupped Conner, fighting the sleepiness from the exhaustion.

And that was why Tim and Conner found themselves in the comfort of Ma and Pa Kent’s Smallville home. Jason had decided that Kon would be better off with Ma and Pa and distracted, rather than at home where he could hear Bruce’s distress. He could still probably hear it now, but he also probably couldn’t since he didn’t have complete control over his powers yet.

They were both in the spare room, where Conner was in Clark’s old bed when he was a child, made out of the comfortable sheets and things that held him securely and safely inside the ship he was in. Tim sat on the floor near the bed, gently running his fingers through Conner’s hair.

Ma knocked on the open door gently, and Tim turned to her. “You okay?” she asked.

“Yes, Ma,” Tim answered with a small smile, then put his attention back to Conner. “We’re just really worried about him,” he said softly.

Conner was pretty much latched onto Bruce all the time, and even though they all looked after him, babysitting duties they all look forward to, there was nothing in the world that Kon looked forward to more to than going back to Bruce’s arms at the end of the day. Conner was scared because he knew Bruce was hurting, just like what happened at the warehouse.

Tim felt scared, too, about what would happen when his first heat hit him. They say the heats got easier when the omega was bonded. But that didn’t matter at the moment. What mattered was that he had to keep Conner calm and distracted until Bruce’s head was over.

“I’m sure Bruce and Clark will be able to work things out,” said Ma, sitting on the edge of the small bed. “I know Clark will try his best, and Bruce will do anything to give Conner anything and everything he wants and deserves. Including a father,”

Tim looked up at her. “Jason isn’t too happy about things,”

Ma tucked Tim’s hair behind his ear. “He’s being a big boy about all of this, isn’t he?”

“I guess so,” answered Tim, “He’s been a lot more reserved lately. Like he’s saving everything he has to say for later,”

“I think he’s the one who needs a vacation,” Ma winked at him, and Tim chuckled. “When Bruce’s heat is over, and he’s all patched up and well, you all come and visit, okay? No excuses. We’re all going to sit down outside at a picnic table and have a nice lunch,”

Tim nodded. “Yes, Ma,”

“Alright,” she stood up, “I’ll get started on dinner,”

“I’ll help,” Tim moved to get up, but Ma put her hands gently on his shoulders.

“I think it’s better if you to stay with him,” she said. “We don’t want him to cry because he’s not familiar with his surroundings,”

Tim nodded. “Okay,”

“I’ll see you at dinner, dear. And Tim?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you very much for coming to us,” Ma smiled, then left and gently closed the door.

* * *

 

“I sent Tim and Conner to Smallville,” Jason put the cigarette butt out on the ashtray next to him, then lit another one. He set he lighter aside. “He had a little tantrum this morning, and there were some casualties, so maybe if he’s distracted he wouldn’t think of Bruce as much. And because Mr and Mrs Kent are experienced with Superbabies,”

“Casualties?” Diana repeated.

Jason pulled up some x-rays, and pictures of Tim’s chest, and took off his shirt for the League to see. “These casualties. There were no broken bones, just bruises, and good thing Tim’s jaw didn’t break or dislocate. Bruce’s door was way beyond help,” he pulled up another picture, one of Bruce’s door. “As you can see,”

“Where’s Bruce?” asked Wally, “Is he okay?”

Jason put the shirt back on and closed the pictures on the screen. “Yes, thankfully he was out cold when Conner decided to go on rampage. His heat is going well, and it wasn’t as bad as the last one. And no, Clark didn’t see him. Dick helped him move Bruce into another room, and we disposed of the door while Alfred ordered a new one,”

“May we see him?” asked Shayera worriedly. “I mean, the poor kid…” she frowned.

“I might be a good to have one of you were there to help in case he decides to go on another rampage, but I don’t…” answered Jason reluctantly. “Honestly, I have no idea what I’m doing,” he put the cigarette out, and he hadn’t even gone past the first drag.

He was close to actually trying to finish a bottle in one sitting, but he wasn’t going to. He might do or say something that he might not be able to fix.

Before he was about to reach for the unopened bottle of whiskey, someone took it away and set a mug of tea down in front of him. He didn’t even try to get angry when the alcohol was taken away from him.

“You need to relax, Jay,” said Dick, putting the bottle down on the cart nearby, and giving Jason’s shoulder’s a little massage. “Hey, guys!” Dick greeted his team cheerfully.

They acknowledged him with different greetings. “How’s Bruce?” asked John.

“Well,” said Dick thoughtfully, trying to think of a good enough answer. “To put it as friendly as possible, he’s very vocal, and he really, really, really wants another baby, so…there’s that,” he bit his lip.

For a moment there was silence, then Jason sipped his tea and got up from the chair. “I definitely still going to pull a rabbit out his ass. I’m definitely working on that one,”

“Okay, that’s enough brooding for one day,” Dick put the ashtray on the cart and sat down on the chair. “We’ll see if we need anyone to help if ever Conner decides to uh…try out world domination and demand that the government give up his mother,”

“We’ll respect your decision, and we hope to hear from you, and see everybody well very soon,” said J’onn.

“See you later, Dick!” Wally waved goodbye, “Tell Tim to give Kon a kiss goodnight for me!”

“I will. I’ll be up in a while to discuss more business related matters. Batman out.” Dick chuckled waved back at them before severing the connection.

He threw away the ash and the half consumed cigarette in a trash bin, and took the bottle back up to the kitchen, into the cupboard where it belonged. If it hadn’t been for the surprises that happened the last few weeks, Jason wouldn’t have gone back to drinking and smoking. He hoped that he’d quit permanently when Conner was back home and when they were well on their way to fixing things.

It had been quiet the last few hours. Bruce was probably exhausted, too. He hadn’t seen Clark as much either, maybe only when he brought down the trays Alfred brought up, and this morning when they moved Bruce into one of the guest rooms. Bruce looked relatively healthy, albeit worn out, so there’s one worry crossed off the list. He was pretty sure this heat wasn’t going to bear fruit. Pretty sure.

“Hey, Alfred,” said Dick as Alfred entered the kitchen.

“Good afternoon, sir,” Alfred set Jason’s mug down in the sink. “I believe Master Jason found the sofa in the living room as comfortable as his own bed,” he said as he washed the mug.

“Yeah,” Dick grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and took a long swig. “He’s the one patrolling tonight,”

“Two nights in a row, sir?” asked Alfred, “I thought you agreed on taking turns,”

“Well, apparently he doesn’t want to stay in tonight,” Dick sighed as he threw away the empty water bottle. “He probably would’ve gone with Kon to Smallville in Tim’s place if he could,”

“And what will Master Richard be doing in his night off?” Alfred dried the mug and put it on the mug rack.

“Eat, sleep,” he said as he made his way out of the kitchen, “Continue my GTA V,”

“Please don’t run over any innocents, sir,” said Alfred as Dick left the kitchen.

* * *

 

After Clark changed the sheets, he carefully cleaned Bruce with a cool, wet towel, making sure that he could at least let Bruce sleep comfortably and not sticky with sweat and his own fluids. It was easier this time around, since he had already done this before. But if there was anything that didn’t get any easier, it was hearing Bruce’s mindless begging, or that he called him ‘Alpha’ and nothing else, maybe besides the one time that Bruce was lucid, and was able to talk to him for a while. He hoped they’d have all the time in the world to talk after the heat, and maybe he could try fixing things now.

Bruce would chant filthy words, begging to bred and…

Clark sighed as he finished cleaning Bruce up, he pulled the sheets to Bruce’s chest, and put away the towel and the basin of water.

It’s been a few days since sent Conner and Tim to Ma in Smallville, and that made him somewhat relieved, but more of worried. He didn’t see him when he destroyed the door, and he didn’t try to look at him through the walls, but sometimes he listened into what he was saying, and he’d immediately withdraw his hearing. But his worries were lifted when he’d heard that Conner was doing well, and Ma and Pa were doing their best to keep Conner distracted during the day, and knocked out tired at night.

He, too, was in trouble. He was probably already fired from work again after not showing up several days in a row without telling anyone the reason, and he’d gotten a message Dick through his earpiece that the League, minus himself, had shifts around the clock looking after Metropolis in and since his absence. He sure wished he had someone looking after his job right now, too. It’ll all be wasted after what Bruce had done, buying The Planet. Maybe he could get a job at the Gotham Gazette.

When hours had passed and Bruce was still sleeping soundly, Clark was convinced and relieved that the heat was over. Five days. Bruce’s heat lasted five days, and he was probably going to be asleep for a very long while. He gently placed his hand on Bruce’s forehead, and felt that the skin wasn’t so feverish anymore. He pulled some clothes from the drawers, and dressed Bruce in some comfortable, loose pyjamas before pulling the sheets up again.

He contemplated on going back to his apartment to get a change of clothes so that he wouldn’t have to bother Alfred with washing the clothes he’d borrowed, but he didn’t want Bruce to wake up without him there, even if it were only going to take him a second to get there and back. Borrowed clothes it was.

“I miss mommy, Timmy,”

Clark turned to the window when he heard Conner’s voice.

“I know,” Tim answered. “We’ll be back home soon, okay?”

“And then we’ll bring him here, too?”

“Yeah,” the older boy replied. “Yeah, we will, and we’ll have a nice lunch under the tree outside when he’s all better. How’s that sound?”

“Okay!” Conner’s voice was cheerier now, and Clark was a little guilty the boy had to suffer through a week without the most important figure in his life.

He smiled despite the guilt, because he had no doubt of Bruce’s abilities as a parent. He might have been reserved with Dick, Jason and Tim, but nothing was short was given to Conner.

He sat on the edge of the bed and tried not to be creepy as he watched Bruce sleep. He realized that he’d noticed these feelings before, but didn’t really pay attention to it. He’d always thought and treated them as platonic, but when really he’d been lying to himself.

He ran a hand through the soft hair as he came to a decision that he was going to let these feelings grow, and if they already have…

Bruce softly moaned and leaned into his touch.

He didn’t need any other reason to fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CORNNYYYYYYY. 
> 
> I need to go jump off a building now.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because of that new Batman shot, there will be some more pain. Because I don’t like Ben Affleck. Not just as Batman, but in general.
> 
> Unbeta'd. Mistakes are mine. 
> 
> Also: Obligatory Mother's Day shizz. Will post Conner's adorableness soon. I hope. School is starting again.

It had been a while since Bruce’s heat ended, and Clark, while looking after Bruce’s sleeping form, had been practicing his lines.

Dick gave him the exact thing he would say when Bruce woke up. And that he’d say them before Bruce asked anything else. Because there was nothing in this world a person should be afraid of more than a Mama Bat looking for his Baby Bird. _Nothing._

And Clark believed him. Clark believed in it like he believed that the sun would rise tomorrow. If Bruce could beat up several people close to death—and Clark had found out most of them were still in the hospital and some of them had passed away—just for pinching Conner’s cheek, there were no limitations to what Bruce would do if he found out his firstborn son wasn’t in the safety of his own home.

Clark was fully aware of what Bruce could do while free of any physical injury with a clear head and just his teammates in danger, and Bruce what did that to those men with a knife in his side and two bullets in his leg was probably done out of anger, and instinct. And Clark did _not_ want to experience first had what Bruce could do to him if he hadn’t explained early on what had happened during his heat. He did _not_ want to experience what Bruce could do with a clear head with his own flesh and blood in probable danger, even if he were injured.

He was sure his head was screwed on right.

But he didn’t have to think about that right now. What he had to think about was that Bruce might wake up soon, and that he had to figure out the things he had to say to him. Which he hadn’t worked out yet and he’d probably have a huge word vomit and have nothing but senseless and unacceptable excuses.

Maybe he shouldn’t talk at all, because he had nothing to say. There was no excuse. And no amount of apologizing would ever relieve the guilt he felt, or the pain Bruce went through. But he was here to atone for all of that. He was here to patch things up and get to know his mate and son.

And then it hit him like a Kryptonite rock the size of the moon.

Bruce was his mate. It wasn’t just the feelings that were there. He wasn’t going anywhere. And he had a lifetime to prove himself to them.

For some reason, he still couldn’t believe that Bruce had his son. This little boy who had nothing but smiles and kisses and love for Bruce and his brothers in all their pictures. Who looked so much like him that he knew Ma fell in love with Conner faster than she did with him when she and Pa found him in that rocket. 

 _Conner_. Clark thought. _Conner Joseph Kent_. Named after an absent father.

He tried to shake the thought out of his head, but it wouldn’t go away. Instead, he decided to bring Bruce back to his room. His new door arrived last night, and Dick and Jason spent the better part of the early evening installing it.

Carefully, he lifted Bruce from the bed, making sure his head was leaning on his shoulder and lolling around as he walked. When he entered Bruce’s room, food, sliced fruit, water and some Gatorade was on the bedside table. Clark chuckled softly as he gently set Bruce down on the bed and tucked him in. Alfred knew everything.

Bruce would wake for a while, just enough for him to be fed and assisted to the bathroom, or not. Clark stayed by his side, making sure that he was comfortable, changed his bandages, and changed Bruce’s position every few hours so that he wouldn’t wake up sorer than he already was.

As he drew the curtains closed to keep the sunlight from pouring into the room, he heard Conner squeal.

_“Chicken!”_

Clark smiled.

* * *

 

Tim caught the child and Conner threw the seeds into the air. Conner giggled as he chickens he was chasing came back to peck at the food by Tim’s feet. “It looks like you’re having fun!”

“Chickens are fun!” said Conner, “Grandma said we’re gonna get eggs later! And we’re gonna make Mommy apple pieee!”

“You like apple pie, huh?” asked Tim as he shifted Conner’s weight in his arms.

“Uh-huh!” said Conner, throwing the chickens more feed.

“That’s enough,” said Tim, holding Conner’s hands before he could throw any more. “You’ll overfeed them and that’s bad,” he took the small bag of seeds from him and pocketed it. “You said something about making Bruce some apple pie?”

Conner nodded. “Grandma said it’s going to be Mom’s day soon, and we have to do something special for Mommy and Grandma! And Grandpa said I could help Grandma bake pie for Mommy!”

“Yeah?” Tim smiled, “What else are you gonna do?”

“M’gonna draw mommy a big card! With hearts and you and Dickie and Jay and me. And tell him I love him and I miss him and I love him even more and when I’m all growed up I’ll be his affa like Jay is!”

“And what are you going to do when you’re all grown up and Bruce’s alpha?” Tim couldn’t help the smile on his face.

“I’ll keep mommy safe and make him happy because when mommy’s happy, I’m happy!” Conner threw his hands up and giggled. “And m’gonna make mommy pancakes and juice ‘cos mommy likes cakes and juice in the morning,”

“Will you let me help you make Bruce breakfast?” Tim started to walk away from the chicken pen.

Conner nodded enthusiastically. “And we can make cookies with Jay and Dickie!”

“What kind of cookies?” Tim tried to keep the conversation going as long as possible, as a way to distract him, to tire him out, and to bond with him of course.

“Cookies with a bat shape!” said Conner, “And bird shapes because you’re a bird, Timmy!”

“Oh yeah?” said Tim, heading for the house. “And what bird am I?”

“You’re a robin!”

“Do you know what robins look like?”

Conner gave him a confused look that it might have hurt Tim a little bit. “They look like you,”

Tim laughed. “No, they’re tiny birds with light brown feathers and red chests,”

“Is that why you’re red?”

“Maybe,” Tim gave Conner an Eskimo kiss. “Do you know what color robin eggs are?”

Conner shook his head.

“They’re blue,”

Conner’s smile was from ear to ear, as if he figured something out. “Is that why Dickie’s bird is blue?”

“Maybe,” said Tim again, “You should go ask him,”

“Mommy’s black because bats are black. And you’re red because robins are red,”

“How about we just get some lemonade, okay?”

“Okay!”

* * *

 

“I can’t leave him like this!” said Clark to the person on the other line on his phone, as he paced in the terrace attached to Bruce’s bedroom. “I don’t want him to think…I’ve left him once!”

“And we’ll try to get you back ASAP, it will be explained to him when you don’t get back before he wakes up,” said Mr Terrific. “You know we, mostly you and the seniors, are on shaky ground with Qurac, especially with Queen Bee. Maybe this can help establish something with their people,”

Clark groaned in protest, pained at the thought of leaving Bruce alone. “I…I promised him…”

“Leave now and you’ll be back before dawn,”

“He could wake up by then!”

“I’ve been informed that his heat ended today. There is a very big chance that he won’t wake up for the next twelve hours. And we hope to make something out of half of that time with your help,”

Clark wanted to smash the phone but it’s not like he could afford a new one. Alfred entered the room with this suit and earpiece, set it down on one of the sofas, and left without a word. He sighed, hung up from the call, and put his suit on at super speed. He turned on the communicator in his ear. “I better be back before he wakes up, Michael. And if I’m not, I will fly out of there without a word,”

His lines were fucking useless now.

“Beaming you up now, Superman,” Mr Terrific said instead of saying yes. 

When he got there, most of the junior members and some of the probationary ones were on the bridge, being briefed by Batman. There was a terrible earthquake, and fires and looting had spread, and the state was doing little to help the victims.

Names were called up who were to be teleported to Qurac to help as soon as Batman gave the go signal. Most of the names called were junior and sophomore members and exemplary probationary ones. Batman then dismissed the rest of the ones who were not called except for the seniors, who were told to go to the conference room, and the called names to stay on the bridge. (1)

Dick took off the cowl as soon as everybody was in the room. “Jason will stay at home. Tim and Conner will stay at Smallville until Bruce has woken up. That’s it. We need to leave now,” he put the cowl back on, and with his return to the bridge, Mr Terrific started teleporting the members to Qurac.

The seniors however, went to the hangar and didn’t teleport there. Wonder Woman took a Javelin with Hawkgirl, J’onn, Green Lantern and Flash. Superman flew right out as soon as the hangar doors were open, and Batman took one of the ready Batwings, flying right behind the Javelin.

As soon as Clark reached the stricken areas, he realized that there was much work to be done.

* * *

 

Bruce woke up early morning of Mothers' Day. There was a little bit of sunlight pouring into the room from the open terrace doors and slightly drawn curtains. It quickly registered to him that he was alone in the room. He felt sore and exhausted, as always after his heat. He didn't remember anything, but he was sure that it had been one of the really bad ones.

"Conner?" he groaned as he sat up and took a few gulps of water from the glass on the tray on the bedside to wet his dry throat. He ignored the crutches that were prepared for him, leaning on the bedside drawer, and got onto his feet. 

  
He winced as pain shot through his side and his leg. He lifted the hem of the silk pajamas and saw that his bandages were relatively new. A quick glance to the digital clock on his bedside drawer told him he’d been in heat give or take six days, which was good considering he had been out of it seven days when he conceived Conner.

He got to his feet and paid no attention to the terrible discomfort his injuries were giving him and made his way out of his room. Alfred would probably be in the kitchen. Jason might probably be out if Alfred gave him some errands to run. Tim might be studying, and Dick at work.

Wait. This wasn’t his door.

Bruce stepped out of the room, and discovered that he was indeed still in his bedroom, but the door had changed. He studied it for a while, then brushed off the thought of a new door. He limped to the bedroom across his, Conner’s room, and opened the door. The curtains were closed, and it was dark so Bruce had to flick the lights on. It was cold, the bed was made, and there were no toys flung all over the place.

“Conner?” he called as he stepped inside.

This room hadn’t been slept in for a while.

“Conner?!” he called louder, limping as fast as he could to the bathroom, checking every possible space in the room that he child could be in.  

Panic started to set in, his mind going wild at the thought that his son wasn’t home, reeling in all the bad situations his son could be in. He gave up on putting weight on his injured leg and started dragging it to the next room: the playroom. He barged it open, and it was as clean as Conner’s room. No toys lying around, it was cold and the bathroom was empty.

“CONNER?!” he yelled, proceeding to check the other boys’ rooms.

He wasn’t there.

“CONNER!” he shouted frantically, and Jason came into view running towards him. “He’s not here! Where is he?! Where is my son?!” he demanded, “I need to see him!”

“Calm down!” said Jason worriedly when he saw the blood seeping through the silk pajama top. He caught Bruce before he fell, and helped him back to his room. “He’s fine! He’s in Smallville with Ma and Pa and Tim, okay? He’s fine. He’s perfectly safe and fine,”

Jason set him down on his bed, and unbuttoned his pajama top. “Let’s get that cleaned up and changed. You might have pulled them,” he went to the bathroom to take the first aid kit. He was back at Bruce’s side cutting the bandages off when Alfred came in.

Bruce caught his breath and put a hand to his forehead. “What…why is he in Smallville?”

“Master Bruce!” a terrified Alfred came through the door, and took over in attending his dressings. “Good heavens! You’re bleeding!”

“I trust you recognize your new door?” said Jason as he poured a generous amount of alcohol on his hands.

Bruce nodded, then winced at the sting of the disinfectant.

“I guess that’s another thing you should take pride in. Your son showed us a marvelous display of super strength and threw himself at it and tried punching his way through to get to you,” said Jason. “Throwing us at the wall was one thing. The door was completely destroyed, and Alfred had to bring out the vacuum for the splinters. We figured he needed to be distracted from your moans of pain. I think it reminded him of that kidnapping, even if he seems okay overall, your wounds made an impact on him,”

“If you could lie down, sir,” said Alfred as he started to redo Bruce’s stitches.

Jason fluffed up some pillows behind him and Bruce gratefully leaned his back on the pile. “How’s he doing? Is he okay?”

“He almost dislocated Tim’s jaw, a few bruised bones on me and the bird but we’re fine. Last I heard he was feeding the chickens,” answered Jason. “And we couldn’t keep you here without a door, so Superman had to move you to another room,”

Bruce looked up at him. “Clark was here?”

“Yes,” Jason ground his teeth stubbornly. “He helped you through your heat. He’s in Qurac with Dick right now. Some shit happened,”

There was a gust of wind, and at the threshold of the terrace doors stood a casually dressed Clark Kent sans glasses. “Bruce,” he said breathlessly.

Bruce was silent for a moment. “Jason, after Alfred’s done please have Conner come home,”

Jason gave Clark a glare. “Sure,” and he left with a loud slam of the new door.

A few more moments later, Bruce was all patched up, and Alfred too left to give them some privacy. Bruce buttoned up his pajama top. He looked at Clark.

“Well, are you just going to stand there? Because you’ve already fucked me non-stop for a week twice now, and being shy is not an option anymore,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) This isn’t like high school, it’s a ranking thing. But it doesn’t take you just one year to get from probation to sophomore or from sophomores to juniors. Juniors are the one directly below the seniors, such as Mr Terrific (in charge of the bridge) and Aquaman (duh). Sophomores are ones like Vigilante and The Question. Probationary ones are like Supergirl (before she stayed in the 31st Century, but I’m not writing about that shit). Rookies are probably the ones out of probation but not yet sophomores. This is just based on the show and their importance, recurrence, missions given and decision making authority of these guys, okay? No hate.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I can't write drama for shit that's why. I had more stuff to say with Jason, because he's watching from the outside. Bruce is just one big stubborn omega who wants to live happily ever after with his babies without having to face problems. 
> 
> Also I've applied for a job! I might be teaching at my high school as a computer teacher. There's another hindrance to writing!

Bruce’s voice was neither sarcastic nor was there any hint of malice it. He was calm, but his heart was pounding. And Clark hated it. Why wasn’t he yelling or angry?

Clark had no idea how to describe what this felt like.

Darkseid’s beams to the chest? Yeah.

A good ass whooping from Mongul? Why not?

Getting repeatedly punched into the earth’s crust halfway to the core by Doomsday? Definitely.

He just wished it was literally someone beating him to death, instead of just feeling that way while he stood there looking at the person who birthed his child. The child he hadn’t even properly seen yet.

Bruce took a deep breath as Clark slowly approached him. He’d never really prepared anything to say to Clark. It wasn’t that he was too busy with Conner; he just didn’t want to think about him. What was he going to do?

Ask him to stay?

“You can go now,” said Bruce calmly, looking up at Clark.

Clark’s eyes widened in shock. “Wh-what?” What was Bruce saying? Why was he telling him to go?

Tell him he thought of a nice Kryptonian name for him?

“I know you know what I did, so I’m telling you now that you don’t need to feel responsible,” this wasn’t what Bruce really wanted to say.

Tell him how much his big brothers adored him?

“I’m not going to force this on you like I did with my heat—”

“No,” Clark cut him off, “No, I won’t let you,” he said, “I won’t let you decide everything like you always do. And it doesn’t matter what you think you did! I helped you with the heat that conceived your son, and your last heat, and in a heartbeat I’ll help you again if you asked for it,” Clark frowned at him. “Yeah, I know, you weren’t yourself, and yes, that _does_ excuse you from whatever lie you’ve been telling yourself—”

Bruce frowned. “It’s not a lie—” no, he really didn’t want to argue.

“Yes it is!” Clark insisted. “You’re going to tell me you could’ve been able to do something about it? You could’ve stopped yourself?”

Bruce furrowed his brows. “Yes! If I hadn’t—” What was he saying? Of course he didn’t have any regrets about anything.

“Hadn’t what?” Clark interrupted him again, “Hadn’t asked me to help you? Then what? You wouldn’t have had your son, Jason wouldn’t be here, and I’d be coming back home to a place where family and friends have gotten so used to life without me?”

Why was he telling lies? He tried to take a calming breath and said, “Please leave, Clark,”

“It was stupid of me to up and leave and I don’t deny that. I’ll take the sharp end of everything. But you don’t get to do that to me!”

Both men’s voice’s rose. “I said _go_!” “I won’t let you keep him away from me!”

There was a long pause. “I won’t let you keep you away from me,” Clark continued softly. _You’re important to me_.

“I told you, you don’t need to feel responsible,”

“And do you think that just because you said that the feeling of responsibility and guilt will go away?” Clark asked him sadly. “Believe me, I wish they would, so that I could give you want you want. But even if it did go away, Bruce,” Clark sighed. “I’d still choose to stay with you,”

“And I’m telling you again that you don’t have to,” Bruce said stubbornly.

“But I _want_ to stay with you, don’t you understand that?” Clark frowned a little. “I _want_ to stay. I’ve missed a lot already, and I don’t want to miss anymore. I’m a part of him just as much as he’s a part of you. I want him to grow up with both of us,”

Bruce wanted the same thing.

“Maybe…just maybe? Even if I know I’ll be crap at it, for sure,” said Clark uncertainly, “That we could raise him together?”

Suddenly someone had burst through the door. “MOMMY!” came the loud cry, and Conner came running up to the bed.

“Careful!” said Tim behind him.

“Conner!” Bruce caught the child and held him tightly. “My boy,” he said into Conner’s hair. “My boy,”

Conner sobbed and hiccupped, and Bruce took the pain just so that the child could properly be held. “Mommy,” he chanted as fat tears rolled down his chubby red face.

“Shush,” Bruce rubbed circles on his tiny back. The only way Conner would stop crying was if he sang, so he sung one of the songs in a movie Conner loved seeing over and over again. “ _Come stop your crying, it’ll be alright_ ,”

Conner relaxed, and his sobs turned into small hiccups as he tried to bury himself into Bruce’s side.

And Clark couldn’t help but smile a little. There in front of him was a little boy, fondly calling his best friend ‘mommy.’

Bruce wiped the boy’s tears away. “ _I will be here, don’t you cry,_ ”

Conner nodded and said, “I missed you,”

“I missed you, too,” replied Bruce tenderly.

“You smell funny,” Conner scrunched up his nose.

Bruce gave him a small smile. There’s someone here to meet you, Conner,” he gently turning Conner around to face Clark. “This is Clark,” he said, “And he’s your father,”

“Hello, Conner,” said Clark a little reluctantly.

“I have ‘nuther dad?” Conner turned his head to the side in confusion.

“Yes,” answered Bruce. “If Jason allows it, or if the big men at the flag’s office find out, he’ll be my alpha,”

“NO!” Conner said vehemently, trying to angrily push Clark away. “NO! MOMMY’S MINE! I’M GONNA BE MOMMY’S AFFA!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry if this isn't the reunion you wanted. 
> 
> /shot
> 
> also. phil collins because i love tarzan.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> at least i got something out. unbeta'd, mistakes are mine. 
> 
> i didn't take the teaching job. They wanted me to teaching programming wtf.

Bruce, with a healthy dose of painkillers was able to join Conner in the bathtub. And later in the morning, Bruce joined his sons in the private drawing room near Bruce’s bedroom as some sort of levée and a late breakfast. Nothing of the early morning was discussed. Instead, without any interruptions from his brothers, Conner told Bruce all about what he and Tim had done at the Kent farm. Bruce listened, smile never leaving his lips as Conner recounted his little vacation, throwing his tiny hands in the air as he described Pa Kent’s truck.  

Alfred was kind enough to call Lucius and tell him Dick was going to be occupied most of the day, and that they were going to spend it with Conner and Bruce. Most of the morning had been spent in the drawing room, and the day in the game room, where Dick was enthusiastically playing a dancing game on their motion capture console with Conner, with a few reluctant rounds from Jason and Tim that all turned into a competition on who can score the highest. And Bruce was perfectly content watching them from his spot on the sofa.

Mother’s day was celebrated that night, after everyone had gotten some rest, and was freshened up.

Back in the master bedroom, after dinner in the drawing room and some evening cartoons, Conner looked hopefully up at Bruce, who was looking at the huge card Tim had helped Conner make. Of course, his big brothers, though Bruce didn’t birth them, had their own space on the card to scrawl on their own few short messages of love and gratitude.

“I love it, Conner, thank you,” Bruce smiled at the child, who smiled back and hugged him.

“Happy mom’s day! I love you, mommy!” Conner kissed his cheek.

Bruce returned the gesture and hugged his son. “I love you, too,” the he looked up at Dick, Jason and Tim, who were watching them only because they too had been coaxed by Conner to write on the card. “I love all of you,”

Dick beamed, Jason smirked and Tim visibly reddened.

Bruce chuckled, and Dick excused himself and Tim to get ready for patrol. Tim eagerly followed Dick out, and Jason stayed, preparing his makeshift bed on the floor.

“You can sleep in your own room now, you know,” said Bruce, “And you don’t necessarily have to sleep the same time Conner does,”

“Yes I can, and no I don’t, but some sleep would be really nice right now so, good night, Bruce,” Jason pulled up his sheets, and closed his eyes.

Conner yawned. “Good night, mommy,”

“Good night, Conner,” Bruce tucked him in beside him, and also tried to get some rest, but not before babying his baby a little bit more.

* * *

 

Clark, as he walked up to his childhood home with a bouquet of flowers in hand, could hear Bruce lulling his son to sleep. He could hear the gentle brush of Bruce’s fingers over the child’s smooth skin, the soft smacking sound of Bruce’s lips to the child’s head, and low whispers of infinite affection.

“Clark!” Ma smiled as she opened the door, with Pa behind her.

“Hi, Ma, Pa,” Clark smiled as he went up to her. He handed her the flowers and kissed her cheek. “Happy Mothers’ Day, Ma,”

“Thank you, dear,” Ma gave Clark a long and tight hug. “You okay?” he looked up at him.

“You seem a little down,” said Pa as they went back in the house.

“Bruce’s heat ended,” he said as he sat on the sofa in the living room. “And he woke up today,” before Ma could say anything optimistic, he added, “And it’s mothers’ day. I have two mothers in my life, and the other wants me out of his life, and my own child hates me,” he looked up at his Ma.

“Oh, Clark,” Ma gave Pa the flowers, and sat down beside Clark to pull him into a hug.

Pa frowned when Ma shooed him away to put the flowers into a vase.

“You should have seen the kid, Ma,” Clark said sadly. “I’ve never seen a kid that angry before. He could’ve thrown me out the window if he wanted to,”

“Well, I think,” said Ma as she rubbed circles on Clark’s back. “That he’s an adorable little boy who’s just scared of having his mother, who he’s had only to himself, getting attention from an alpha who isn’t him or his brother,”

“What you need to do, Clark,” said Pa as he set the vase down on the coffee table in front of them. “Is you gotta go back there and show him, make him feel and tell him that you want that life with him.” Clark looked up at him, and softly Pa added, “Because even if he’s still a stubborn thing, he wouldn’t have gone through everything he went through without thinking that part of it was going to be for you,”

And Clark realized he was never demoralized.

* * *

 

Jason couldn’t sleep. Bruce’s lamp was open, and he was probably reading news on his tablet or whatever. Conner was pressed and curled up to Bruce’s uninjured side.

“I know you’re awake,” said Bruce, making a sliding gesture on the tab so he’d get to the next page of the news. “And I know you desperately want to open your mouth,”

 _Dammit._ Jason thought. He sat up.  “Did you ever, even once, wished that you had all of us instead?” he asked. “Would you have loved us differently?”

Bruce was quiet for a few moments, a little taken aback by the question. But he guessed he’d been asking for it since Conner entered their lives. “If I had all of you, that probably would’ve meant I slept around even worse than a beta whore,”

He set aside the tab, and Jason was sitting on the floor at the foot of his bed, waiting for the answer. 

“No, I have never once wished that I birthed all of you instead,” Bruce answered, “If I had you, and was on the way of becoming Batman, I probably would’ve given up Batman, and found another way to fulfill that vow,” he took a deep breath. “Because you know how omegas are with children, whether or not they’re their own, and especially with their own,”

“Bruce?” Jason frowned when he noticed Bruce looked uncomfortable.

“And had I chosen to go on with Batman, that would’ve meant I had to give all of you away,” and just the thought of giving away his own flesh and blood was making him shake. Give them away. The thought of giving a _child_ away sickened him. _His child._ If he could do something about it, he’d want for every child in the world to never feel abandoned or lost.

He had so much more to say, but he didn’t know if he could say it. Bruce took another deep breath, and slowly exhaled to calm down before speaking gain.

“So no, I don’t wish that I’d birthed you instead. Because I love you for who you were when I met you, and continue to love you for all the wonderful young men you’ve become, and for the incredible men you will be,”

Jason stared at him.

“Was that the answer you were looking for?”

Dumbly, Jason just nodded. “Thank you, for that answer, Bruce,” he said softly. “Good night,” he laid back down and pulled his blanket up.

“Good night, Jason,” replied Bruce, and he turned off his lamp. He pulled Conner close to him, pressed his nose to the child’s hair, and closed his eyes.

* * *

 

“And I helped Alfred make you pancakes and orange juice!” said Conner proudly as Alfred set down the breakfast tray in front of Bruce.

“Really?” Bruce smiled. “And what did you help Alfred with?”

“I put in the choco chips and the banana bits in the bowl and mixed it!” he pointed to the visible pieces of chocolate in the pancakes. “And we squeezed oranges!”

“And he did a very splendid job squeezing those oranges, sir,” smiled Alfred.

By the door, an amused Jason had a rolled up pancake in hand with a mug of coffee in the other. Dick was on his chaise, and Tim was on his sofa, both knocked out from last night’s patrol. 

Bruce chuckled. “Thank you, Conner,” he said, ruffling the child’s hair. “Making breakfast was very thoughtful of you,”

Conner only beamed and smiled from ear to ear. “You’re welcome!”

“Have Dick and Tim had breakfast?” he asked as he dug in in his pancakes.

“Yeah,” answered Jason, “They had those milk and oat drinks then went straight up here before Conner woke up,”

Alfred put a blanket on Dick. “I might have to be the antagonist today, because Master Richard has a meeting in about two hours,”

Jason took a bite of his rolled up pancake. “Dick’s a master at putting on concealer. He’ll be fine,”

“I wanna!” said Conner, taking the fork from Bruce. He stabbed one of the pieces from the plate and brought it to Bruce’s mouth.

Bruce ate gratefully.

“Okay, that is too cute for words,” Jason put his coffee down, and scooped Conner up from the bed and snuggled him and gave him a small noogie. Conner’s loud squeals and giggles wasn’t even enough to wake Dick and Tim up.   

* * *

 

Conner never left Bruce’s side. It took a few days, with all three meals of the day helpfully prepared with Conner (a little over a week). Life went on like how they would’ve before Clark came back. Dick and Jason would take turns patrolling,  but Alfred was finally able to take Conner from Bruce long enough so he could change the bandages in peace.

Alfred was changing his bandages one afternoon, while Conner was outside playing with his brothers, when he told Clark he could come over so they could talk.

“Clark,” Bruce hissed when Alfred put some stinging disinfectant on the stab on his side.

About a moment later, Clark on the balcony, wearing a red plaid shirt, some jeans and work boots, and holding a cake box and a bouquet of freshly picked flowers, looking like he’d spent the entire day in the field.

He wasn’t officially back into _The Planet’s_ process and was back on probation because of company policy, so he asked that his probation period be postponed because he had to help with the farm, go on double shift monitor duty on the Watchtower (he asked Dick for his hours so he could go back home and rest and look after his family), and save the day of course.  

Alfred paused in dressing Bruce, then stood up to let Clark in. “Good afternoon, Mr Kent,”

“Good afternoon, Alfred,” replied Clark politely before stepping into the room. “Hi, Bruce,”

“Hello, Clark,” Bruce let Alfred get back to dressing his wounds.

“Uh,” Clark said awkwardly, “These are for you. Ma’s apple pie, and some flowers. Belated Happy Mothers’ Day, Bruce,” he set the box and the flowers down on the coffee table near the sofa.

Alfred finished up with a few more strips of adhesive, and stood up to leave. “Very good, sir,”

“Thank you, Alfred,” said Bruce, watching Alfred gather up his supplies, and leave. “And thank you, Clark, for the gifts. Why don’t you sit down,”

Clark nodded, and lifted the sofa nearer to Bruce’s bed. He sat down, and after a moment’s silence said, “I guess…I guess I deserved what Conner said to me,”

“Yes,” said Bruce, “And no,”

“I’m sorry, Bruce,” Clark frowned.

“Clark,” Bruce took a deep breath. “You of all people know how stubborn I can be, and there are some things that I just can’t say, a lot of things I don’t want to change. And I apologize, too, for not being honest with our friends, especially with you,”

“They don’t have to know, you know,” said Clark softly. “That’s…really private, and it’s up to you if you want to tell them, and nobody’s forcing you to,”

“I have to,” Bruce sighed. “You’ve been taking the blame for everything, when I had something to do with it, too—”

Clark opened his mouth to protest, but Bruce held up a hand to stop him from speaking.

“And before you say that I didn’t mean any of it, it’s not an excuse, even if you say it is, and that you don’t care about taking all the blame. But I do, because I know I deserve that, too,”

“No,” said Clark, “No, you don’t. I won’t let you take any of it. They won’t have to know if you don’t want them to know. That is between you and me, and it’s not my secret to tell. What matters is that Conner healthy, happy, and has the love of most wonderful people in the world,”

Bruce nodded. Yes, he understood what Clark wanted, but wasn’t raising a child a two way street for parents? “Yeah,” he nodded again. “That’s what’s important,” he repeated idly.

“And Bruce?” Clark leaned a little bit forward, and looked at Bruce hopefully. “You’ll let me in, right?” he asked. “You’ll let me raise him with you?”

That made Bruce smile a little bit. “I think we should let you and Conner be friends, first, don’t you think?”

Clark gave Bruce a relieved smile. “Yeah, that’s what Pa said,” he nodded. “But I do have a feeling that he genuinely hates me,”

“He’s a child, Clark,” said Bruce, leaning back on the pillows behind him. “If there’s anything he genuinely hates, it’s peas,”

“Peas?” Clark echoed.

“Yes, my son hates peas,” replied Bruce. “And whatever he has for you, is probably along the lines of dislike. I used the wrong words in introducing you. Hopefully, when I reintroduce you, I’ll say the right ones, and he’ll look at you differently,”

_My son._

“I’d love that, Bruce, thank you,” Clark smiled.

“As for what’s between us,” said Bruce carefully. “We’ll let Conner decide that,”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> because fluff okay.
> 
> more conner cuteness to come, i guess.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd

Clark came by next day, when Tim was the one on babysitting duty so that Bruce work for a while, to try and meet Conner (that’s what he kept telling himself, but he actually had to talk to Bruce again). Bruce was the one who answered the door, because this time Clark actually had the brain to knock, rather than land like a barbaric meta on Bruce’s terrace.

Holding tightly on his cane, Bruce opened the door and let Clark in. Clark was thankful Bruce was healing well, which meant that he wasn’t in much pain, and could go back to whatever normal routine he had before getting injured.

“Good afternoon, Bruce,” said Clark as he stepped into the manor.

“Good afternoon, Clark,” replied Bruce as he closed the door.

“I’m not bothering you am I?” asked Clark, completely forgetting the bag of food, drinks, and flowers he was holding, because he was so damn happy and relieved that Bruce had some color back on his face and was back on his feet, and not still on the verge of death like he’d seen him about two weeks ago.

“No, not really,” answered Bruce, then made a gesture to remind Clark of what he was holding.

“Oh,” said Clark, and he handed him the flowers. “These are for you,” he said awkwardly.

“Flowers? Really, Clark?” Bruce sounded unimpressed but took the bouquet gratefully anyways.

Clark turned red in embarrassment.

He was sort of glad that Clark went out of his way to find really nice flowers for him. He smiled as he admired the flower arrangement and the pretty wrapping paper that held it together. And Bruce knew that Clark bought the last two bouquets.

“Thank you,” he said, “But don’t, Clark. You can’t keep showing up with a fifty dollar bouquet every time you come over and ask to see Conner,”

He could fly around the world looking for them, but Clark had decided to pick out the flowers at the local florist, then ask them to arrange it. It sounded less violent to the flowers. He didn’t want them getting destroyed during the flight.

“I just…” Clark took a deep breath. “I wanted to talk to you first,”

“Alright,” Bruce nodded, “But you’re going to have to put that in the fridge first, or it’ll spoil,” he said, referring to the bag of food Clark was holding. “Come to the parlor room. We’ll talk there after you set that aside,”

Clark nodded. “Okay,” and watched Bruce limp towards a hall, and he moved to deposit the bag of food in the fridge.

He followed Bruce to a room with a view of the garden. He hadn’t been in this room before, which looked like a huge living room with beautiful furniture and intimidating drapes and a magnificent chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

“Wow,” said Clark as he closed the door.

Bruce was putting the flowers in a vase with water. “Indeed,” he said, “My mother decorated this room. When something breaks, we replace it with something exactly the same,” he set it down on one of the bear side tables on one end of the sofa. “You can sit down now, if you want,” Bruce sat down on the sofa near the table with the vase.

Clark sat down on the sofa opposite Bruce, and tried to collect his thoughts. “Please don’t talk,” Clark started, “and please let me finish or I’ll chicken out of saying it. I know that I’ve done a lot of wrong things, and assuming that you wouldn’t want to see me after your heat ended is probably the worst,”

Bruce noticed that Clark looked pained as he talked, but continued on talking anyway.

“And I know that it’s ungrateful of me that I asked for another indefinite leave from work this early, because I know that’s indirectly asking you for that leave. I have responsibilities I have to carry out, a lot of them have something to do with you, as a friend, a teammate, an employee, as Conner’s father…as an alpha. And I’ve failed at all of them. I want to make it up to you. To your children.

“I…I don’t really know what I’m getting at, but I want you to know that I’ve spent the last few weeks just thinking. Mostly about you,"

Bruce was slightly surprised by that. He’d never really entertained the idea that Clark would think about him, before or after this whole mess.

“Not anymore of what I’ve missed, but of what you are to me. You’re important to me, Bruce. You have always been important to me. I just…didn’t know how much until I realized how determined everyone we know is keeping me away from you, when all I wanted to do was to see you.

“And then I knew what I want to do with you. I thought of a future with you and Conner, and if you’ll give me a chance, and if I can prove to you and your family that I can take care of you. That I can be more than the alpha who fathered your son, or the alpha you partially bonded with.

“It hurt when Dr Thompson referred to me as that, but I know I don’t have the right to be, or complain about it, because I hurt you and your family, and our friends so much more. But she referred to me as only that, and I realized, I’m not anything to you _other than that_. To her, to our friends, I am not anymore your friend, or your teammate, or that guy who helped Dick with his math homework. I’m not even Conner’s sperm donor. I’m an anonymous alpha who _defiled_ you.

“I don’t want to be that person, that kind of useless alpha. I want to be more than that alpha you bonded with. I know that I have to work on a lot of things. I’m not exactly any kind of material for this. I’m not a real alpha; I’m scared of the thought of my own children but want it at the same time; and I’ve never really thought of mating. Alpha, father, mate—but I want to work on that with you.”

Clark paused, and looked Bruce in the eye. “I want all of that with you. I want to be Conner’s dad. I want to be your alpha. Your mate,”

Bruce squeezed his cane.

“And I’m sorry that you had to end up with me. I’m not your most favorite person in the world—”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there, Clark,” Bruce stood up, and put weight on his cane. “Like I said, Conner will be the one to decide what happens between us,”

Bruce wouldn’t be able to say it until it’s too late, but Clark had always been his friend, his teammate, and Conner’s father. He still had to work for and work on being Conner’s dad, and Bruce wasn’t going to take that away from him. And he was sure their friends didn’t think that way of him. That last League meeting only went that way because everybody had been too carried away with their emotions, and because Bruce had kept one secret way too long. And he’d always thought Clark would make a good mate. He just didn’t want to submit to his biology.

“What is important right now, is that you develop a relationship with my son, and show the boys, especially Jason, that you mean well,” Bruce moved towards the door. “I’ll show you to the game room. Tim and Conner are there,”

Before Bruce could open the door, Clark stood up and spoke. “When you were in heat, you told me not to leave again,”

Bruce froze by the door.

“You told me not to leave Conner,” he continued. “Why didn’t you ask me to stay for you?”

Bruce turned around. “Because Conner is the only one that matters, Clark,” he said evenly before leaving the room.

* * *

Dick wanted to go home. He’d slept through the last meeting with the board, which was just about a thirty minute get together with a slideshow of how WE in other countries was doing. That was a few months ago. The night before the last board meeting he’d sent Tim home to sleep, and he’d been staking out at the pier for weeks on a case about the drug cartel in Gotham. The bust went well, but his meeting sure didn’t.

He looked at his phone, but earned a look from Lucius as one of the presenters were speaking. And then his phone vibrated.

Dick put his phone back down on the table, and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

Tim was studying while looking after Conner. Conner was too busy coloring his own coloring books with some extra-large crayons wrapped in reinforced steel, a precaution Bruce thought of if he ever broke them.

“Timmy, look!” Conner said from the other side of the short kid’s table they were both at. He held up the paper, and showed Tim a filled out page.

Tim looked up from his book. “That looks great!” he smiled.

Conner held up his coloring book proudly. “I’ll show it to mommy later,”

“I’m sure he’ll love it,” Tim closed his book and moved to the other side of the kiddie table, and sat behind Conner on the puzzle matted floor. “I’ll help you write something for him,”

“I know how to write ‘I love you!’” Conner reached for the red crayon, and started writing.

Tim wrapped his hand around Conner’s own tiny one, and helped him. “There we go!” he said when Conner finished the sentence.

“Yay!” Conner let go of the crayon and clapped his hands.

There was a knock on the door, and Bruce entered.

“MOMMY!” Conner exclaimed. “I colored for you!”

Bruce smiled as Conner grabbed his book and showed him the page. “That’s wonderful,” he took the book, and led Conner to one of the sofas so that he could put the child on his lap. “There’s someone here to meet you,” said Bruce.

Conner made himself comfortable on Bruce’s lap. “Really?”

“Conner, this is Clark Kent,” said Bruce, “He’s a friend of mine, and a friend of all your uncles and aunties,”

Clark knelt down on one knee to be at Conner’s eye level. “It’s nice to meet you, Conner,” he gave a little wave.

Conner looked at Clark carefully. “Cark.”

“It’s Clark, honey,” Bruce tried to help him say it properly. “Clark,”

Conner looked at Bruce, then back at Clark. “Cark.”

Clark chuckled. “I don’t think he can say it yet,” he said. “My name’s a little difficult to say isn’t it? How about we try Kal? You can call me Kal, Conner,”

The boy smiled. “Kal,” he parroted easily. “Kal!”

Clark thanked the heavens that Conner must’ve already forgotten their first meeting. “Yes. Kal,” he nodded.  

“What do we say when we meet someone new?” Bruce asked Conner.

“Hello, Kal!” said Conner with a smile, “I’m Kon and I’m four!” he held up his five fingers.

“That’s one too many fingers,” Bruce chuckled, and corrected him and folded his thumb. “Is it okay if Kal comes to see you every once in a while?”

“Uh-huh!” Conner nodded. He wanted to be put down, so Bruce let him go back to his coloring spot.

“How’s his nickname spelled?” Clark asked Bruce as he stood up.

“With a ‘K,’” he answered, getting on his feet and moving to leave the room.

Tim’s phone buzzed, and he was texting the whole time Clark was in the room.

* * *

Clark followed him. “A ‘K?’”

“Yes, Clark,” said Bruce, “With a ‘K,’” he turned around looked at Clark. “Tim gave him that name. He likes his nickname a lot. It sounds awfully Kryptonian, doesn’t it?”

“May I, Bruce?” Clark said a little too hurriedly. “Please?”

“I beg your pardon?” Bruce’s forehead wrinkled in confusion.

“May I give him the name of my house?” Clark asked hopefully.  

Bruce’s heart sped up. “Not now, Clark,” he looked at the carpet beneath Clark’s feet, then back up at Clark. “He’s part of you, too, I know. But I’m not ready to share him completely just yet. But it sounds beautiful, doesn’t it? With your name,”

It made Clark see that this was more difficult for Bruce than it was for him. “Yes. Yes, it does,”

“But I can’t,” Bruce said softly, moving to turn around. “I can’t let you name him. Not yet,”

“Okay,” Clark nodded, watching Bruce walk down the hall.

“I’ll be in my office,” said Bruce as he walked away from Clark. “Feel free to stay, or leave,”

“Okay,” he repeated.

 _Kon-El._   


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: super fangirl moments from the Arkham Games from me in here. I am completely NUTS over the Arkham games.
> 
> Unbeta'd.

Clark had received a message from Bruce that the boys, especially Dick, liked the food he’d brought over. Dick had mentioned that he hadn’t had any food from Bibbo’s for a while now, and he was happy that his craving was satisfied.

What Clark liked most about the message was that Conner was bouncing off the walls happy when he’d learnt that the pie that was brought over when Clark visited Bruce for Mothers’ Day was his Grandma’s pie, and the man named Kal was the one who brought it over for him.

Just to be safe, Clark decided to see him twice a week: Wednesdays, after work and before he went out on a sweep around the world, making sure that he wasn’t intruding on Conner’s sleep; and on Saturdays, the whole day unless he had to be somewhere else, work, an emergency, monitor duty, then he’d tell Bruce that the schedule he asked permission for would be disturbed, but would be back to normal when he was done. Thankfully there weren’t a lot of those emergencies.

Clark dropped by unannounced one Monday afternoon, about a month later, holding a manila envelope. As usual, Alfred answered the door and kindly let him in, and told him that all the boys were out on the property taking a walk, and that Bruce was in his office, working.

“I thought Dick was the one running things?” Clark asked as they walked through the manor’s halls.

“He does, sir,” answered Alfred, “But Master Bruce knows the ins and outs of the company better than Master Richard does, and it is not always the young master is prepared for whatever the company throws at him,”

“Oh,” was Clark’s dumb answer.

They stopped and Alfred opened double doors, and announced that Clark was there to see Bruce. “Mister Kent is here for you, sir,”

Bruce was on the phone, and made a gesture that told Alfred that he got it and that he could leave them alone now. With a nod, Alfred left and closed the doors, leaving Clark standing in front of Bruce’s desk. Brue was still busy on the phone while checking some documents on his laptop.

Bruce finished his call and motioned for Clark to sit down. He picked up the phone again and dialed a number where a woman answered. “Stop redirecting calls to this phone for the next half hour. Tell them to call later,” the women on the side line said her affirmations and Bruce hung up.

“Clark,” said Bruce, trying to arrange the mess of paper on his desk. “I didn’t know you were dropping by today,”

“It was a spur of the moment thing,” Clark shrugged and handed Bruce the envelope. “Thought you might like these,”

Bruce was never going to be impressed with flowers and food, so Clark tried giving him intel. He never really did think about giving him intel to impress him, but then it hit him as he was writing down the final few addresses on the paper.

Bruce took the sheets of paper from the envelope and started reading. “You’re kidding,” he said, realizing that he knew all of these people, and some of them were familiar. These were the people of the underground drug cartel of Gotham.

“I had some time yesterday,” Clark blushed. “And I remembered Dick saying that he was going to try his best to bring Lex down if he was behind your kidnapping. I’m sure he wasn’t, because Lex is too busy right now with all the charity work in Metropolis. And I asked him myself,”

“And you believed him?” Bruce raised a brow at him.

“No, which is why that,” he pointed to the papers he gave Bruce. “Exists,”

“And?” Bruce continued reading.

“And it wasn’t Lex. It’s Jason who does most of the drug busts, right? Last night, Gotham and Metropolis detectives were at the hospital questioning one of the thugs you beat up. He was the first to wake up, and he pretty much remembers everything. He was offered witness protection and a shorter sentence and a possibility of early parole if he agreed and if he behaved throughout the process. He said that a few years back, the Red Hood—Jason, made one of the biggest drug busts in Gotham history. That operation was under Roman Sionis and Oswald Cobblepot, and that it was running under the name of Janus Cosmetics and there were wire transfers to random banks and forwarded to Gotham Merchants Bank into multiple accounts,”

“But Janus Cosmetics has been closed for years,” said Bruce, remembering exactly that case. And Gotham Merchants Bank was owned by Sionis, but the money wasn’t in his name.

“Yeah, exactly. Penguin and Black Mask were arrested but they made bail, despite the bail being set so high, and despite losing so much money already. The money transfers from the random banks and from Gotham Merchants Bank were wiped out, and the money isn’t anywhere to be found either,”

“They already bribed the officers of GCPD and at court. That’s why Sionis and Cobblepot are busy with legal operations right now, slowly but surely, to get the money back. The steel mill and the lounge are quiet. Even though Sionis primarily uses the Steel Mill to produce and ship materials to make drugs, none of the shipment and the manufactured goods look suspicious, and are all being sent to legitimate business around the world,”

“And of course you know that most of the ones that were included and aided in the drugs were arrested, some made bail, and—”

“Two of the ones who made bail were heads of the operation. Because Sionis and Cobblepot didn’t handle the operations directly,”

“And because all four they were only arrested for association. They didn’t find any proof that Penguin and Black Mask were the ones behind Janus Cosmetics, because anyone could’ve used the company name for anything. They couldn’t trace the sales and purchases, or handling the drugs or the money to either of them. The thug confessed that the whole kidnapping thing was the idea of one of two heads. He didn’t know the real name; he said it was Loose Lips,” (1)

“Yeah, that was Ricky Leblanc,”

“He and Black Mask’s scapegoat planned all this, tried to get a ransom out of you to get the money back, and to get the drug operations back up and running, because Black Mask and Penguin were on their tail for the money they lost. They’d been hiding until the kidnapping, but they didn’t go on the kidnapping themselves, in case it didn’t go too well,”

“And these names and addresses?” Bruce asked.

“Are the names and locations of all the people who were included in the kidnapping, the aids, accomplices, and the suppliers for the guns, cars, body armor, and the like, they used. There are also addresses for the places they’re cooking drugs. The ones Loose Lips is running is on page two, and they’re all fairly new. Three of them are underground, one’s under the GCPD in New Gotham, and the other two are in the old GCPD building in Amusement Mile,”

“They’re flocking to the Old Gotham,” Bruce said the paper down.

“I still didn’t get the name of the one under Black Mask. But I did find out that he’s in the Sionis Steel Mill,”

“You said they weren’t directly tied to Sionis,”

“Yeah, but Black was so pissed about the money, he hired the thug into the mill and personally pushed him into the furnace,”

“Well that isn’t new,”

“What?” Clark wasn’t sure he was on the same page as Bruce.

“Black Mask does these kinds of brutal murders as a hobby. He never really gets caught,” answered Bruce. “Give me a minute,” he picked up his phone and dialed the same number as before.

“Oh…”

As much as Clark loved humanity’s capacity for good, and that sometimes the kindness they commit could still blow his mind away, he still also couldn’t believe that they could be capable of doing things like that to one another. Especially for something so trivial as money. He had to admit, he’d had problems with money, too, but he had never thought of hurting someone for it.

“Clear everything for today. Push everything back,” and Bruce hung up.

“Wow, she sounds stressed,” said Clark.

“I pay her good money to be stressed for me,” Bruce pulled the phone line from its socket to make sure that no one was going to call him, and turned off his laptop. He picked up the paper again and read carefully this time.

Clark was standing the whole time, fidgeting, waiting for Bruce to say something about what he’d brought him.

“Hmph,” said Bruce, “This isn’t just the people and the operations that had something to do with the kidnapping.  This is a list of all the hideouts of all the drug cartels in Gotham,” he smirked at Clark. “And if I’m not mistaken, I’d say you’re trying to woo me, Alpha Kent,”

Clark swallowed nervously and blushed. “At first I just really wanted to beat the shit out of them for hurting you and Kon, and give you that info. The impressing you part kind of came later,” he said bashfully. “Is it working?”

“It might be,” Bruce grinned at him. He stood up. “Suit up. Let’s bust these motherfuckers,”

“Wait, what?” he followed Bruce to the piano near the shelves. Bruce played a string of notes that made the shelves move. “Can you even—are you allowed to—Bruce!”

“Oh, I’m more than ready,” he pulled Clark into the elevator the shelves revealed.

* * *

 

Clark swallowed. He would probably find himself with soiled underwear if he hadn’t been trying to not stare at Bruce getting ready (but he hated it that Bruce had worn scent masks, it didn’t smell right). Alfred had apparently been busy making a new suit for Bruce.

Everything was reinforced now. Bruce had armor, chin guards, the fins on his armguards were retractable, and metal lined his boots up to his knees, and his knuckles and his elbow guards; his armor wasn’t anymore just one slab of Kevlar—above it, were metal pieces that made up the symbol of the bat, but broke into several pieces when he moved, then pieced back together to make the bat again when he was upright; his cape wasn’t attached to his cowl anymore, it was hooked onto his shoulders, easier to take off if ever it got caught in something. His cape also didn’t fully fall onto the floor. Clark could imagine that his cape would shape into a bat when he used it to glide.

“He gets the better looking everything,”

Clark flinched, startled at the voice beside him. It was Dick, fully dressed and ready for patrol. He was wearing Bruce’s old uniform, and Tim was beside him, with a new uniform as well. He had a hood attached to his cape. The outside lining was black, and the underside was yellow. His bow staff was attached to his belt on his back, and was wearing dark green arm guards. Instead of tights, he was wearing some nice fitting pants, and what looked like motorcycle protective gear, only it was red with this insignia on it. His shoes were also metal lined.

Jason still looked the same, opting not to update his uniform. Brown leather jacket, gray Kevlar with the red bat on his chest, cargo pants, boots and his helmet. And of course, guns with some rubber bullets, and some real bullets if he got pissed enough. (2)

“Stop staring or I'll shoot,” said Jason, putting his helmet on.

“Ready to kick some ass, boss?” Dick smiled.

“Definitely,” answered Bruce, headed for the Batwing.

“You’re not going to dress up?” Dick asked Clark before heading to the Batmobile with Tim.

“Oh, um,” Clark made a few fast spins, and was in his uniform. 

Jesus Christ, Clark felt so outdated as he flew out of the cave, following the Batmobile, Jason’s bike, and the Batwing behind him. 

* * *

 

Jason, Tim and Dick all quietly look out the armed men, guarding the outside of the old GCPD building in Old Gotham, in the Amusement Mile. Silent takedowns were best, and they didn’t alarm the people inside the building.

“We’re gonna give this to Bruce. Ever seen him in predator mode?” Dick whispered as he, Jason, Tim and Clark quietly entered

Clark wanted to ask how Dick felt about the poster of The Flying Graysons that was still there on top of the casino, but didn’t. “The what?”

He also had no idea why they were in the vents. They exited the vents, and made themselves comfortable on the platform near the ceiling, while Bruce grappled up to one of the vantage points, then started picking out the armed men guarding the cook site one by one. The men were all betas. Scent masks were expensive and not everybody could afford them.

“That,” said Tim, referring to how Bruce took out the thugs one by one without being seen or caught. “Thugs don’t look up. It’s too late when they finally do,”

Bruce did a takedown through a class ceiling first, rendering the thug unconscious with a hit of his knee. He grappled back up to the vantage point, and then swung to another one to avoid getting seen.

The next two thugs who were near each other, he hit with two different Batarangs, a sonic one that exploded and knocked out the first thug, and the other one that hit the second thug, and Bruce glided down and knocked him out with a solid punch to the face. He again grappled back up and swung to the other end of the room.

The last three who were guarding the door with the finished product inside huddled together, and Bruce swooped down and took down the remaining three so fast Clark didn’t even get how he wasn’t shot with all the bullets fired.

Clark also couldn’t believe all of that happened in less than three minutes. He hated his semi boner right now.

“I’m going to shoot you, really,” Jason snarled at him. “Stop it. You smell disgusting. I can smell it even behind the scent masks,” he hopped down from the platform, landing gracefully on his feet.

“Stay here,” Dick told Clark as he and Tim followed Jason.

Bruce was interrogating one of them against the wall. “Where’s Leblanc?” he asked the thug, pressing his arm harder to his neck. “Tell me, or I’ll hurt you,”

“You better tell him,” said Robin, preparing his staff.

Batman and Red Hood stood beside him, with Red Hood crossing his arms. “Or he’ll hurt you,” said the second Batman.

“Oh God,” the thug said frantically. “Oh God, _you’re_ back,” he referred to Bruce, “and there’s two of you now. OH GOD. Everybody is so fucked now—”

“Do you have any idea how many bones you’ve got left for me to break?” Bruce said impatiently.

“Okay, okay!” the thug relented. “He’s in the parking lot under the building! There’s a room there and he keeps to himself down there! He keeps all of the money there!”

“Thank you,” Bruce said flatly before knocking him out.

Clark had noticed Bruce had used more force, and was a lot more brutal than his sons. But that was understandable, because these people aided in attempting to hurt Bruce’s youngest son, and Bruce had all the excuse to be as brutal as he wanted.

“Alfred,” said Bruce before turning around, his cape whirling behind him. “Inform Jim,”

“Already have, sir,” said Alfred from the comlink.

The boys followed Bruce to the morgue and to the back exit, and Clark flew behind them. Dick, Tim and Bruce glided and Jason grappled down to the parking. Bruce bust the only door there open, and saw Leblanc on a bed, fully clothed thankfully, with some whores.

“OH SHIT!” he yelled, and the whores screamed and ran out the room. “OH FUCK, SHIT!” he said, close to wetting his pants.

“Hello, Ricky,” said Bruce lowly, approaching him. “You think it’s a good idea to hurt children for money?” he growled, flipping over the tables of booze and money that were in his way.

“I needed it okay!” he tried to reason. “He took it all!” he pointed to Red Hood.

“I liked taking it all,” said Jason.

“Fuck you!” he spat at Jason.

Bruce hit him with the back of his palm, sending him off the bed and onto the floor. “I don’t think you’re in any position to talk like that,”

Leblanc saw the people at the door. “Oh, God, there’s two of you,” he looked up at Bruce with a terrified look on his face.

“We’re audience for today,” said the second Batman.

“And you’re the original one—oh God, fuck, _you’re_ back—I was scared, okay!” he babbled. “Penguin and Black Mask are on my ass right now, and they want me to get the money back! I had no choice. They were going to kill me! I just wanted to get the money from Wayne and leave the kid alone! I swear! I was scared! I’m sorry!”

In the distance there was the sound of police sirens.

“I’m the _only one_ you should be scared of,” and Bruce knocked him out, leaving him with a broken and bleeding nose, and several loose teeth.

* * *

 

Conner was curled up against Bruce’s chest, sleeping soundly against his bearer. They sat on the sofa on Bruce’s terrace, under the light of moon.

Clark entered the balcony, and watched Bruce lull his son.

“I might have lost control tonight,” said Bruce.

“Even if you did, all of it was warranted,” said Clark.

Bruce didn’t reply immediately. He took his time watching his son’s peaceful, sleeping face. “It seems that when it comes to Conner I really can’t control myself. All of this, for money. For pieces of paper!”

“Bruce…” Clark frowned.

Bruce’s instincts were going haywire. All he wanted to do was keep Conner inside the house, make sure he was safe, even from his own sire. Keep him close, where he could see him all the time. But that wasn’t right. He didn’t want his own child to hate him. Until Conner knew how to defend himself, he was going to try his best to keep him protected.

“You’re not alone,” Clark sat beside him. “We’re here for you and Conner, and we’ll all look out for him,”

The League had found out that he’d gone out beating the shit out of people who had something to do with the kidnapping. He was met with mixed reactions. Diana and J’onn were the ones who disagreed, mostly because they were insisting he wasn’t physically ready yet, and John, Wally and Shayera disappointed in him because he didn’t invite them to the party.  

“I know,” Bruce said softly as he brushed Conner’s hair away from his eyes.

“You were great out there,” said Clark shyly, “It was amazing to see you back in action,”

“Thank you, Clark,” Bruce smiled a little at him. “It was nice to have back up waiting, too. And thank you, too, for that information,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) ‘Loose Lips’ Leblanc is a thug from Arkham Origins.
> 
> (2) Bruce is in the Arkham Knight outfit. Dick is in the Arkham City one, minus the briefs. Tim is in his Arkham City outfit, but isn’t 5’11’’tall. Haha. Jason is in his N52 outfit. I get lady boners out of the Arkham games okay. Sorry. xD
> 
> That was a shitty murder-kidnap plan thing. I tried. :|
> 
> If you have any questions about anything mentioned or any references to the companies, the places, like the New and Old GCPD building, Amusement Mile, Sionis Still Mill just ask. :)


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> extra long chapter because you guys deserve it. been a long time since i last updated i'm sorry about that. we passed thesis1, but failed thesis2. we'll do better next time! 
> 
> i hope you like this chapter. this is unbeta'd as usual, and please comment below for any mistakes. :)

> “You lied to me! You lied to us!”
> 
> Bruce had been in the middle of a business conversation with Dick in his office when Conner, looking just about ready to bring the building down, barged in. His secretary was behind his son, obviously freaking out and probably about to resign.
> 
> “Sir! I’m so sorry!” the secretary said frantically. “I tried to tell him—”
> 
> “It’s alright, Abigail,” said Bruce, “You can go now. Lock the door, and cut all my communications,”
> 
> The woman in hysterics nodded and rushed out the door, and shut it with a click.
> 
> “Kon, dude, what is going on—” Dick started, but Bruce cut him off.
> 
> “I hope you have a good explanation for this behavior, Conner,” said Bruce, getting up from behind his desk. “Why aren’t you in school and where are your glasses?” he asked, observing Conner was sans glasses in his school uniform, which was ruffled, but was not in school considering it was eleven in the morning on a weekday.
> 
> “Crushed the glasses on the way to a Titans call. Beat the shit out of Klarion--”
> 
> “Watch your tongue!” Bruce hissed at him.
> 
> “—but not before he said some very nice things about you!” Conner continued angrily. “What, you think you could keep it forever?”
> 
> “Whoa, whoa,” Dick stood up from the chair he was in and tried to approach his younger brother. “Slow down, and try to take some calming breaths first, alright?”
> 
> “Did you know anything about this?” Conner demanded Dick. “About anything he’s been keeping from you?”
> 
> “Don’t you take that tone with me, too, Conner!” Dick frowned at him. Dick very rarely called him by his full first name, and when he did, he meant business. “Bruce will keep whatever he wants from us and will tell us when he sees we are fit to hear it. Now tell us what this outburst is about!”
> 
> “Alright,” Conner crossed his arms and looked at Bruce. “You wanna know what this is about? How about I wanna know why you decided to screw Kal over?”
> 
> Bruce looked at Conner incredulously. “Excuse me?”
> 
> “Oh yeah, like how to you pretended to need him during that heat you conceived me?” said Conner. “Alfred had always said you could handle heats on your own, but you had to convince Clark you needed him?”
> 
> “That is personal and none of your business, Kon!” said Dick.
> 
> “Shut up!” Conner glared at his eldest brother. “Shut up—I want him to explain himself!” he looked back at Bruce, who was silent, still standing there making no move. “What? You just suddenly decided to manipulate Clark into your bed, get yourself knocked up, and also manipulate your friends into siding with you because boo-fucking-hoo your fake mate left you all alone with the baby you asked for, and you used it to get their pity?”
> 
> Bruce didn’t reply.
> 
> “ANSWER ME!” Conner yelled angrily.
> 
> “Conner, stop it!” Dick tried to pull him a few steps back from Bruce.
> 
> Bruce gave no answer.
> 
> “So you used me to get Clark back to you, when you never really had him in the first place!” Conner’s hands were balled into fists, and he really wanted to hit something. “Were you tired? Were you tired of being friendless? Of having no one to care about what you do with yourself? Did you finally realize that one day, this bloodless pack you created will disband and leave you without second thought that even Alfred, who would probably stay with you until he died, would only stay with you not because he wants to, but because he promised your parents he’d take care of you. Were you tired of all the misery you’ve brought upon yourself, that you had to manipulate everyone around you to create a false sense of security and happiness?”
> 
> “Stop it, stop it,” Dick said desperately, putting a hand on Conner’s chest.
> 
> Conner brushed him away. “And you should stop your blind faith in him,” he gave Bruce one last look. “You’re disgusting,” Bruce had never seen the look of complete revulsion on a child’s face before. “And I hate you,”

* * *

Bruce opened his eyes. He sat up, and turned on the bedside lamp. The digital clock on the table glowed a 3:37. He glanced to the body beside him, thankful that Conner wasn’t a sixteen year old young man, but still a very much dependent four year old.

He gave a sigh of relief, and bent over to give the child a quick kiss on the forehead. Conner did not like the movement, and gave a small whine as he shifted positions and hugged his stuffed bird tighter.

Bruce got off the bed, and made his way downstairs to the kitchen to make himself some tea. That should calm him down.

With a steaming mug in hand, Bruce sat down at the counter, desperately trying to shake off the bad dream as he took a few sips. He wasn’t going to deny that those were the things he thought of himself. Hearing it from Conner, even if it were just a dream, definitely made it sound true, and it definitely made sense.

_“Yeah, I know, you weren’t yourself, and yes, that does excuse you from whatever lie you’ve been telling yourself!”_

Clark’s words rang in his ears.

_“You lied to me. You lied and manipulated us. You’re disgusting and I hate you.”_

But so did the words of his fictional grown up son.

That same dream, over and over again. Sometimes just different places, setups, people, but he and Conner would be there, and Conner would be accusing him of things he already knew himself.

He pushed the mug away before his shaking hands could somehow tip over his mug and burn himself. He took a deep breath, and ran a hand through his messy hair.

“Hey, you okay?”

Bruce watched Jason open the fridge. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he answered.

Jason pulled out a tetra pack of some strawberry milk he and Dick liked so much. “Went to check on you and saw that Conner likes having the bed all to himself. He’s sprawled out like he owns it,” he joined Bruce at the counter. “By the way you don’t look fine,”

The omega mother smiled at the description of his son. “I’m fine,” he insisted. “Just thought I’d come down for some tea. Are Dick and Tim back in?”

“Dick, nope. Tim got back in around one-thirty,” he finished the drink and dropped it into the garbage chute at the end of the counter. “And I will be the one going in to work for him. I’m subbing for a meeting he’s supposed to be in at seven but he’s on a stakeout tonight. He promised no skirmishes, just a stakeout with coffee in the Batmobile, so he’s fine without backup—”

Bruce wanted to argue that they should always have backup, but Jason beat him to it.

“Which is why I have all the alarms on if ever he calls and asks for back up, I’m ready,” he said defensively.

Bruce raised a brow at him. “You better be,” he took another sip of the tea.

“I’m still not convinced you’re okay,” Jason said after a while. “You haven’t been sleeping well in weeks, Bruce. This is what, the fourth time this week, and who knows how many times the past few weeks, I’ve caught you awake when you’re supposed to be sleeping? And don’t tell me that bullshit excuse that you used to run pretty good on three hours sleep, because that was years ago, before you had a child, and before you got kidnapped, stabbed and shot, and had an out of schedule heat on top of it all—”

“I’m fine,” Bruce pressed.

“Alright,” Jason held up his hands in defeat. “Whatever you say,” he got off the stool. “Go back to bed soon. Good night,”

“Good night,” said Bruce, watching Jason leave the kitchen.

He finished the tea, but wasn’t able to go back to sleep.

* * *

 

“Mommy…” Conner whined as he slowly woke up. “You’re noisy,”

Bruce chuckled and set aside his laptop. Conner was woken up by his typing. “C’mon, it’s time to wake up,” he gathered the child into his arms and blew a raspberry on his tummy.

Conner squealed and laughed. “Stop! M’awake, mommy! M’awake!”

Bruce stopped, and snuggled Conner. “I can see that,” he smiled. “What would you want for breakfast?” he said as he lifted Conner off the bed, and carried him down to the kitchen.

“Pancakes! With bananas and chocolate! And whipped cream and maple syrup—”

Bruce laughed. “That sounds like dessert!”

“—and ice cream on top and chocolate milk!!”

“Then it’s a good thing I made just that, sir,” said Alfred, smiling as he set a plate of two banana pancakes with chocolate chips on the breakfast table, where Dick fell asleep with the day’s paper and his pancakes in front of him, and Tim eating a bowl of cornflakes.  “Good morning, sirs,” Alfred started to make Bruce his coffee.

“G’morning, Alfred!” said Conner cheerfully as Bruce set him down on his chair with a stack of Bruce’s old college books. “G’morning, Timmy!”

“Good morning, Bruce,” said Tim, lifting Conner off his seat and onto his lap. “Morning, Kon!” he chuckled as he gave Conner a snuggle. 

“Did Jason leave already?” Bruce asked as Alfred handed him his coffee. “Pass the paper, please,”

“Yes,” answered Tim, “He left about an hour ago.” Tim took the paper from Dick, who didn’t wake up, and gave it to Bruce.

“He’ll be back soon,” said Bruce, taking a sip of the coffee. “Sitting in a chair surrounded by boring old men has never been Jason’s strong suit, even during stakeouts,”

Tim slid Conner’s plate in front of him, put some butter on them, and let Conner pour syrup over them. “You’re going to drown them,” said Tim.

“Conner, that’s enough,” said Bruce, taking the bottle from him before he put in too much. “Would it be okay for you if I leave you with Tim today?” he asked the child as he held up the paper to read the news.

“Uh-huh!” said Conner, reaching for the soggy, pancakes that Tim cut up.

“Oh my God, put that down,” said Tim in a panic, then Alfred magically appeared with some wet wipes. He wiped Conner’s hands of the syrup, then gave him a fork to eat with.

Conner ate a small piece gratefully. “Me and Timmy are gonna play!”

“As long as you don’t throw him at the wall,” said Bruce from the behind the paper. “Alfred, I will be in the office today. Dick is asleep and I believe it’s best if I handle the management of the PR disaster that went on a few months ago. I want all of it to end today,”

“Of course, sir,” said Alfred as he served Bruce some toast, butter and jam.

He was about to finish a third article, about half a paragraph left, and his coffee, and was about to thank all the existing deities that breakfast had been relatively peaceful, but he had thought wrong.

“Oh my God, Kon!” shrieked Tim, setting his phone down on the table and grabbing the wet wipes. He’d been reading the news on the BBC app. “I guess it was wrong to trust you enough with breakfast on your own, huh?”

Bruce folded the newspaper immediately and saw that Conner’s pajamas were soaked in pancake syrup. “Conner!” said Bruce, setting the paper aside, and helping Tim wipe the syrup off.

“Yum, yum!” Conner giggled.

“It’s alright, Tim,” said Bruce, taking the pajamas off the child. “You ruined your clothes,” Bruce lifted him off of Tim, and carried him to the bathroom of the master bedroom.

“Are your clothes stained, sir?” Alfred asked as he approached the table.

“No, Alfred,” said Tim, resuming his own breakfast.

Alfred sighed at the sight of Bruce’s untouched food. “I should stop making him food, if he isn’t going to eat it,”

“I’ll eat it,” said Tim, pushing Conner’s empty plate towards Alfred and pulling Bruce’s nearer to him. “Jason said he was awake at around four,”

“Mmm, yes,” Alfred took Conner’s plate. “And he’s been awake since. Please wake Master Richard so that he may be able to move to the sofa or the bed. The table is not the place to sleep,”

* * *

 

Conner had his own room, and his own tub, but his toys and all of his toiletries were all in Bruce’s bathroom now since that incident. He never wanted to leave Bruce’s side, but Bruce knew he had to find a way to make Conner sleep in his own room again. As much as he wanted to coddle his son, he wanted him to grow up knowing how to take care of himself.

Later, Bruce and Conner were both under the spray of warm water in the shower in Bruce’s bathroom. Bruce knelt, and lathered some baby shampoo into Conner’s hair.

“I smell goooooood,” said Conner, trying to lather the shampoo himself. “Mommy smells good, too!”

Bruce chuckled. “Yeah?” he turned off the water when they were both well rinsed.

“Uh-huh!” Conner stood in the shower cubicle, and watched Bruce step out and put on a robe. He reached for Bruce when he came back to collect him. He wrapped a big, fluffy towel around the child, brought him out of the cubicle, and dried him off. “Is Kal coming today?”

“I don’t know,” answered Bruce. “Maybe. Why do you ask?”

“I like, Kal, mommy,” said Conner as Bruce dried his hair. “He’s really nice and fun when we play and he brings pie from Grandma!”

Bruce smiled and finished drying him off. “Really, you think so?” he said, reaching for some baby lotion from the vanity.

“Uh-huh!” Conner nodded. “Do you like him?” he asked as Bruce put some lotion on him.

The question made Bruce pause and think. “Yes,” he nodded and looked at Conner. “Yes, I do like him,”  

“I’m still going to be your affa even if you like him?” Conner’s voice was soft and unsure.

“Hey,” Bruce lifted Conner’s chin up. “You and Jason will always be my alphas. Remember that, okay?”

Conner smiled at that. “I’m mommy’s affa!”

“Yes,” Bruce laughed. “Yes, you are—Conner!”

Conner ran out the bathroom, and the bedroom butt naked and screaming, “I’M MOMMY’S AFFA!”

* * *

 

It’s been a few months, but was Clark glad that his friends had gone back to the usual way they acted around him before he left. Oh, he knew they were just being civil for Bruce, for Conner, but there were no words in Kryptonian or English that could describe how fucking grateful and happy he was. Even if it was fake, or that they were just tolerating him. If they weren’t then he was going to thank every deity and star out there.

Jason, Dick and Tim were a different story. They were civil, and Dick was still the boy he knew before he left, but he knew very well what those boys thought of him. He knew very well what Jason wanted to do to him. Jason was just nice to him because Conner liked him. At least, he liked to think Conner liked him.

And Conner.

Clark smiled every time he thought of Bruce and Conner. Both of them had warmed up to him, at least.

“Kent! Stop smiling at the copier and bring me those papers!” Perry’s voice hit him like a Kryptonite brick, almost making him crush the copier under his hands.

“Coming!” said Clark as he grabbed the copies and rushed to Perry’s office.

“Took you long enough,” said Perry, taking the documents from Clark. “Anyway. You can go. You filed that half-day thing for today, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Clark smiled. “Thanks! See you tomorrow,” Clark left his office, and ran into Lois.

“Why are you in such a hurry?” asked Lois with a smirk. “And you’ve got that smile on your face. Something’s up with you, Smallville, and I’m going to find out what,”

Clark laughed. “See you tomorrow, Lois!”

“What?” Lois raised a brow. “Where are you going?” she yelled at him as she watched him hurriedly taking his coat and hat from his desk, then to the elevator.

“Filed for a half-day today!” said Clark gleefully as he disappeared into the elevator.

And for some reason, Clark thought it would be a great idea to tell his teammates that he was going to see Bruce. He sent out a group message to their private phones, and had received several replies before he even got to the ground floor, all telling him they were going to go with him and be there by noon, which was about less than an hour away.

He hoped it was going to be a great day, because he felt good.

* * *

 

It was nearing lunch and but at least he was somewhere with this PR disaster. “Look,” he told his public relations officer. “I want you to stop everything. Like before, I don’t want you setting up interviews with me, or my children, or even Lucius. I don’t care if that’s Vicki Vale, Modern Mom, Business Today, Seventeen, or even the Wall Street Journal. Don’t agree to anything. If any one of them, a cameraman, a paparazzi, or anything even gets out again, published electronically or physically on print, I will have your head, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,”

“Good,” and he hung up the phone. He leaned on his elbows on the desk, and massaged his temples.

There was a knock on the door, and Alfred entered. “Master Bruce, I apologize for the interruption, but Messrs. Kent, Stewart, West, Jones, and Mmes. Prince, and Hol are here to see you,” 

“What?” Bruce’s head snapped up to look at Alfred. “They’re all here?”

“Yes, sir,” answered Alfred, “And are having a very good time in the back yard with the young master,”

Bruce spun his chair around and looked out the window. He smiled when Conner and his friends came into view.

“HI MOMMY!” Conner yelled as John let him bounce on a trampoline construct. “CAN WE GET—A REAL TRAMPINE—JUMPY LIKE THIS TOO?”

He immediately opened the windows. “Careful!” he said worriedly as Conner squealed. “John!”

“Aww,” Conner frowned when the trampoline turned into a big baseball glove to catch him.

“Sorry, kid,” said John as he set him down on the ground and ruffled his hair.

“Looks like Batman’s orders are absolute,” Wally winked at the kid.

“Mommy Batman,” Conner giggled.

The group of friends laughed.   

Moments later, Bruce was rushing out to the backyard. “We are definitely _not_ getting one of those!”

* * *

 

“Dude, seriously, how can you sit all through one of those!” Jason said as a way of saying hello when he answered Dick’s call. “My neck is stiff from looking at all the slides, and the blood flow to my lower half has stopped. And I told Bruce’s secretary to make me a double espresso which didn’t work!”

“Practice,” answered Dick, “Look, are you on the way home?”

“Yeah,” replied Jason, making his way to the car. “Why?”

“I need you to get a lot of food. Whatever you want. Bring it. Pizza. Bring lots of pizza, and ice cream. And a lot of soda. Oh, and get all the possible burger combinations at the best burger place you can think of,”

“Who are you gonna feed? Wally?” he asked as he got in the car.

“Yes. And the rest of the Godparents League. Just, bring everything, okay? Lots of it. I swear, Alfred’s going to explode anytime soon. He’s just started cooking and it’s fifteen to noon. Better to clean up takeout garbage than deal with Alfred trying to figure out how to feed an army in an hour, okay,”

“Alright. Fast food it is. Did you want fries with that?” he said as he drove out of the parking lot.

“Bring LOTS of food.”

“Got it,” and he hung up. “Finally some junk food,”

* * *

 

Since it was a nice day, there was a unanimous decision that they were going to have lunch outside near the pool, under a large umbrella. Bruce was pretty sure Alfred already had a headache trying to fix lunch for all of them, so everybody helped fix and set the table while Tim made sure Conner didn’t fall into the pool or anything disastrous.

Alfred served some iced tea first, with some chips and dip to calm the rumbling stomachs. Wally, as usual, did this thing, which made Alfred raise a brow.

“FEAR NOT, I BEAR GIFTS!” Jason so loudly declared as he set down a dozen pizza boxes on the table, and with Dick and a delivery boy behind him with several buckets of Buffalo wings, bags of burgers, baskets of fries, and a lot soda bottles.   

“PIZZA!” Conner shouted happily.

“And I got Kon a lot of ice cream,” Jason grinned at the child. “It’s in the freezer,”  

Conner’s eyes widened in delight. “ICE CREAM!” he repeated loudly.  

“Oh dear,” said Alfred as he saw the sheer amount of junk food.

“Eat up!” said Dick as he started opening the boxes of pizza, and Jason distributing the burgers. He turned around and gave the delivery boy thanks and a random bill from his pocket, to the which delivery boy said a very big thanks, and left.

“So Clark, how’s it going back at the _Planet_?” Diana asked casually as she bit into a slice of pizza.

“Well,” Clark started, reaching for a burger from one of the bags. “I have not been assigned to anything worth the front page yet, which I am grateful for as of now,”

“How so?” Shayera asked taking a piece of pizza from one of the boxes, then putting another slice on J’onn’s plate.

“Mommy, I want the chicken!” said Conner as Bruce put him in his chair. Bruce put a piece of chicken, a slice of pizza and some fries on Conner’s plate. “And the orange soda please!” then he looked up at Bruce. “With ice cream, ppllleeaasseee?”

Bruce sighed. If Conner had too much sugar, he wasn’t sure if he could handle that without much sleep. “Conner—”

“Don’t worry!” said Wally, zooming into the house then back out with the ice cream and red cups. “I’ll handle the sugar rush!” he opened a bottle of the orange soda and put a scoop of ice cream on top of it, and gave it to Conner.

Bruce narrowed his eyes at the speedster.

“Well, for one, I get to properly serve my monitor duty hours and come see Kon—” Clark noticed nobody was listening to him and was looking at Bruce, so he looked up at saw Bruce half glaring at the speedster. “Uh, Bruce?”

“Really, Wally?” said Bruce irritably, “You’ll handle the sugar rush?” Wally was the last person he’d trust with a child who was on a sugar rush, especially when Wally himself was always in a perpetual sugar rush.

Wally would’ve have shrank to the size of mouse if he could, and they couldn’t even describe the look on Wally’s face. It look all of Wally’s willpower to swallow that lump in his throat.

“Yum, yum!” said Conner, taking a huge gulp of the orange soda float, and a bite of the pizza.

“I think you should just go sit down and eat, Wally,” said Dick, ushering Wally back to his seat.  

“In my defense—” started Jason, but Bruce didn’t let him speak.

Tim stifled a laugh in the background. Jason glared at him.

“And you don’t get to defend yourself,” Bruce wanted to scold him, but Conner stood up on his chair and cutely offered him his float.

“Aawww,” said Diana and Shayera at the same time.

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Batman’s orders are absolute, huh?” John teased Wally.

“Shut up,” Wally frowned and bit into a sandwich of pizza and fries.

* * *

 

After lunch and coffee, Clark was the only one left, staying behind so he could spend time with Conner. Bruce was working, but he decided to work in Conner’s playroom that day. As much as possible, Bruce spent Clark’s time together with Conner, just watching them play, build tower blocks, read and just talk about everything.

“And then, my rocket crashed into Grandma and Grandpa’s farm!”

Conner gasped audibly.

Bruce chuckled from his desk, enjoying his son’s expressive face as Clark told him about how he got to Earth. Clark gave Bruce a glance and a smile, and Bruce rose his eyebrows at him as if to say, ‘Well? Go on!’

“Did you get hurt?” asked Conner curiously.

“No, I didn’t,” answered Clark. “Grandpa opened the cockpit, and there I was, safe and sound, a little baby just like you are,” Clark playfully and gently pinched Conner’s button nose.

Conner squealed and tackled Clark down onto the play mat they were on. Clark indulges him for a while, tickling him and then put him on his lap. “Ssshh,” he said softly, “Mommy’s working,”

Bruce really was working. He was typing on his laptop, eyes focused on the screen.

“You know what?” Clark whispered to Conner.

“What?” Conner whispered back.

“I think your mommy’s beautiful,”

Conner looked at Bruce, and studied the serious face, then looked at Clark, nodding his head off. “Mommy’s bootiful,”

Clark burst into laughter. “Oh, very, very much,” he could definitely agree that Bruce had a nice booty.

“What’s going on there,” said Bruce lightly as he typed away.

“Nothing!” said Clark defensively.

“Nothing!” Conner parroted.

Bruce rolled his eyes and closed his laptop. Like father like son. “Alright,” he stood up and went over to them. “Conner, it’s time for your nap,”

The child frowned. “But I’m not sleepy!” he protested.

“Go to the bedroom, Conner,” Bruce said calmly, “Or do you want us to talk about your behavior at the table this morning?”

Conner’s frown deepened and he was on the verge of tears. “Mommy,”

Bruce knelt. “Be a good boy and go have a nap. Growing boys need naps. And later I’ll let you have left over pizza, okay?”

“Okay,” Conner nodded obediently.

Bruce gave him a kiss on his forehead, and sent him out of the room.

Clark stood up. He was never gonna get tired of Conner calling Bruce ‘mommy,’ but then probably he should make the most of it, because Conner was no doubt going to outgrow that. “Sorry for dropping by unannounced,”

“It’s alright,” said Bruce, looking up at Clark. “It’s a nice change,” he smiled. “It’s not every day we get to be surprised like this. I think the only one who wasn’t thrilled to have so many guests was Alfred,”

“I only told the others I’ll be dropping by. I didn’t expect them to all come with me,”

“Like I said, the visit is very much appreciated, but it would be nice if you called so we could prepare something…” Bruce trailed off as his vision swayed.

“Bruce?” Clark’s brows furrowed in worry as he immediately put his arms around Bruce to keep him up.

“Sorry, I…” Bruce leaned into Clark, unable to keep upright. “I’m dizzy…”

“Dizzy?” Clark repeated dumbly.

“Yes, I’m…”

“Bruce!” Clark cried as Bruce lost consciousness in his arms. “Shit. Shit!” he cursed as he carried Bruce out the door. “Alfred!” he yelled frantically.

Nothing good was running through Clark’s mind.

* * *

 

Jason and Dick were on the terrace, leaning on the railing, talking about the things that transpired in the four hours he spent sitting at a table surrounded by old men, among other things, over soda and beer.

Jason lit a cigarette. He pocketed the lighter, and took a long drag before blowing the smoke in a direction away from Dick. “Shut up, I deserve this,”

“I didn’t say anything,” Dick smirked at him.

“You were thinking it,” he dumped the ash in the ashtray beside him on the railing.

“You have no proof,”

“Whatever. You were still thinking it,” he took another long drag. After one stick, and a few long moments of silence, Jason spoke. “Bruce is hiding something,”

“Bruce is always hiding something,” said Dick, taking a gulp of the orange soda from his red cup.

“No, I mean,” Jason struggled to explain. “Yeah, I know he’s always hiding something. Duh. But he’s hiding something like, something that’s happened recently. Or still happening. I caught him awake at three thirty this morning,”

Dick sighed. “I know, Tim told me,”

“I told him I wasn’t going to buy his ‘I used to go on three hours sleep’ bullshit because that was before this whole clusterfuck, okay,” Jason took a swig of his cold beer, and a drag of the cigarette.

“You know, he’s always thought he could handle things on his own,” said Dick thoughtfully. “I think he just doesn’t want to bother us,”

“That’s stupid,” said Jason. “And you’re stupid for believing that,”

“Okay, no more beers for you if you start calling names. We’re trying to have an emotional conversation here,” Dick frowned at him.

“It’s true!” Jason set the beer bottle down on the railing and faced Dick. “Not wanting to bother us is a stupid reason. How about egotistical enough not to admit that he needs help. We all need help, him especially. This whole omega hormone crap with the feelings and shit is messing with his head,”

“Yeah, it is, but you can’t beat or force the truth out of him, Jason!” said Dick. “He needs us more than he’d like to admit, yes. He hates it that he’s an omega, yes. He’s got this fucked up torn to pieces bond with an alpha who’s not you, so yeah, I think he’s completely entitled to have a little personal turmoil!”

“This isn’t a little personal turmoil, Dick! He hasn’t slept properly in days!”

“Shit!”

Dick and Jason looked up at the window to Conner’s playroom. That was Clark’s voice.

Then a panicked, “Alfred!”

The young men wasted no time and ran inside the house, leaving a newly lit cigarette, a half full cup of orange soda, and an empty beer bottle on the terrace railing, calling for Bruce.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope i didn't waste your time.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some Kal and Kon time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry it took so long. i'm an intern at a medical diagnostics company now as a requirement for school. so, yeah i'm a working gal already. 
> 
> also i have no idea what this chapter is about. i just typed away and tried to see what came out just so i can give you guys something. no birds because im not in the best state of mind to write
> 
> unbetad as usual. 
> 
> i have work in the morning. it's 1130pm and i need to be up at 630. i'm dizzy and i have a headache while posting this so yeah rushed chapter rushed post sorry im gonna pass out now 
> 
> /dead
> 
> on a more serious note: I WILL BE DELETING ANY AND ALL COMMENTS THAT CONVEY MESSAGES OF HATE, HARASSMENT, TO THE STORY, THE THEME, OR ME AND OTHER READERS, IN ALL MY STORIES, NOT JUST THIS ONE. DUDE, I DON'T GIVE A SHIT WHETHER YOU LIKE THIS STORY OR NOT, OR WHETHER YOU THINK I'M A SICK BITCH. I DON'T EVEN KNOW YOUR ASS. DON'T LIKE, DON'T FUCKING READ. I DON'T NEED YOUR NEGATIVITY AND YOUR SJW-ING ON MY SHIT. READ SOMETHING ELSE FOR FUCK'S SAKE.

Clark had been assigned to babysitting duty while Alfred looked after Bruce. Dr Thompson had said that Bruce was exhausted, fatigued, and had not been sleeping well the past few weeks. He also hadn’t been eating well, and it all had contributed to his sudden collapse.

Everyone had been scared, but no one had been as scared as Clark when Bruce all of a sudden lost consciousness while they were talking. All Clark could think about was what if the heat he’d spent with Bruce had taken? He couldn’t do that to Bruce. Besides, wouldn’t the boys have smelt it on him right after heat week? Even though it was a big impossibility that Bruce was again expecting, Clark was terrified nonetheless. Because he couldn’t do that to Bruce. Not again, even if he weren’t going anywhere.

Dick offered to get out of Alfred’s hair and left for work, to at least please Lucius a little. Alfred told Tim to get some rest in preparation for patrol, and Jason decided to do some homework, which he fell asleep on. Alfred was pleased to have the children out of his hair so he could attend to Bruce in peace.

“Where’s mommy?” Conner asked in the middle of dinner. He hadn’t seen Bruce since he woke up from his nap at around four in the afternoon. “And Dick and Timmy and Jay?”

Clark wiped the pasta sauce from Conner’s upper lip. “He’s resting. Mommy needs his sleep, too, just like you do, and Dick is at work, and Tim and Jason are out patrolling,” he said, “So after this, we’re going take a bath, and sleep next to mommy, okay?”

Conner nodded and quietly continued eating his dinner. “Okay,”

“Alfred,” said Clark when the butler entered the kitchen. “I’ll take over caring for Bruce and Conner, if that’s alright with you. Conner and I will stay with him for the night,”

“If you think that is best, sir,” said Alfred as he slid over more food to Clark. “Thank you,”

“You’ll stay?” Conner looked up at him. It was the first time Clark was going to stay over with him. “We can play more?” he smiled.

Clark ruffled the boy’s hair. “Yes. I’ll stay, and if you’re a good boy and let me wash you properly, we can play some more,”

With a mouth full of tomato sauce and meatball, Conner lunged himself at Clark, giving him hug and some tomato stains on his shirt. “Yay!”

“Master Conner!” gasped Alfred. “Oh, dear,” he grabbed a few wet wipes from the counter, and handed them over to Clark. “I’m sorry, sir,”

“That’s alright,” Clark gratefully took the wipes, and cleaned up the stains on his shirt.

Conner frowned. “I’m sorry, Kal,”

“It’s nothing, okay?” Clark lifted him from his chair. “C’mon, finish your drink and we can go take that bath. Because it seems like I need one, too,” he helped Conner with his glass, and wiped off the sauce and juice from his mouth.

As usual, Alfred the divine being that he was, had some extra clothes laid out for him in the guest room. Conner wanted to take a bath in Bruce’s bathroom, because that’s where his toys all were. Clark obliged, and prepared a tub of warm water for him.

“Kal?” Conner let go of his rubber duck and looked up at Clark as Clark lathered the baby shampoo onto his hair.

“Yes, Kon?” said Clark, deciding that it was fun to form a Mohawk out of Conner’s shampooed hair.

“Do you love mommy?” Conner asked solemnly.

Clark was about to laugh at what he’d done to Conner’s hair, but he was taken aback by the question. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I’m gonna be mommy’s affa,” said Conner seriously, “And Jay is mommy’s affa. And we love mommy lots and lots. So if you wanna be mommy’s affa too you have to love him lots like I do,”

Clark smiled, and combed Conner’s soapy hair down, slicked back. “I do. I do love your mommy very much,” he said. “Even if he doesn’t want me to be his alpha. Even if he never wants me to be his alpha, I love him very much. And I love you, too. I love you both, to the end of the universe and back,”

Conner’s eyes widened. “You mean it?”

Clark nodded. “I mean it. And I will do everything to keep you with both safe, and to make you happy,”

Suddenly, the tiny half-Kryptonian starting clapping his two tiny hands. “Apple pie! From Grandma! From Grandma!”

“Apple pie?” Clark repeated with a chuckle.

“Yes! You gave us apple pie from Grandma before!”

“Would you like another pie from Ma?” Clark asked as he started to rinse the shampoo off.

Conner let Clark wash off all of the soap and answered, “Yeah!”

“Alright, we’ll ask Ma to make you an apple pie, then maybe we can go visit her with your mommy and have a little vacation with your brothers. How’s that sound?”

“WE GO SEE GRANDMA!” Conner splashed around, making Clark wet. “AND RUN AROUND CHICKENS!”

Clark laughed. “Okay, time to get out before you get all pruned and wrinkly,” he wrapped Conner in the biggest, fluffiest towel he could find. He went through Bruce’s routine with Conner, brushed his teeth, dried his hair, and lathered some baby lotion on him (no wonder the kid smelled so good all the time), and put him in the cutest pajamas Clark had ever seen, then set him down beside Bruce on the bed.

Then he took a quick shower so he wouldn’t have to take his eyes off of Conner for too long. When he came out of the bathroom fresh and dressed, Conner was still on the bed. The child blinked at him.

“Fast shower!” he said.

Clark chuckled. “Yeah, I had a fast shower,”

“Mommy takes forever in the shower!”

“Does he?” Clark lifted Conner off the bed so that his movements won’t wake Bruce.

“Uh-huh!” nodded Conner, “And we go in the tub and play in the water! Can we do that, too?” the child yawned and his eyes started to droop.

“Yes, we can definitely do that,” Clark gave another chuckle. “Are you sleepy?” he asked as he lied down on the sofa near Bruce’s bed, and let Conner sit on his stomach. “Do you want to go to bed?”

“No!” Conner’s brow’s furrowed and he pouted. “Not sleepy!”

Not-sleepy-Conner ended up asleep on Clark’s chest about ten minutes later. Clark thought it was too cute that Conner fell asleep on him, and he didn’t want to disturb him, so he just let Conner be and sleep on him.  

* * *

 

Bruce woke up at around nine, and saw Clark asleep on the sofa near his bed, with Conner sleeping on top of him. He found it adorable, and thought that yes, this alpha was still an amazing potential mate. He just hoped this would last, and Clark would stay with him forever, and help him raise this child, and mold this little person into a good man. But he didn’t know if he was ready. Bruce was terrified of going into this commitment. He hoped and wished that it was intense loyalty that bound Clark to him. If not to him, then to Conner.

Clark probably heard him wake up, so he too woke, and carefully wrapped his arms around Conner so he wouldn’t fall off him and sat up, cradling the child. “Hey,” he said softly. “How are you feeling?”

Conner moaned and whined, and Clark smiled and rubbed circles on his tiny back to calm him down.

“Much better than his afternoon,” answered Bruce. “Thank you,”

Conner buried himself into Clark’s chest and settled himself in his arms before falling back to sleep.

“Makes you feel good, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Clark smiled. “Really good,” he pressed a kiss to Conner’s hair. He stood up and set Conner down gently beside Bruce and tucked him in. “I love him, Bruce,”

Bruce smiled a little. “I know. I’m glad to know that you do,”

Clark sat on the edge of Bruce’s side of the bed. “If you’d please, please, please let me in, I’d love to s how you just how much you mean to me. I know I’m probably the worst mistake you’ll ever make, or maybe the worst mistake you’ve ever done, but I do want to make it up to you and to Conner. I just…”

For a journalist, Clark struggled to find the words. To find some other way of saying it. But he couldn’t.

“I just need you. So much that I can’t stand not seeing you or Conner for a day. Or even half a day. Even an hour. I’m constantly looking at that photo of you and Conner Dick gave me and every time I look at it, I think ‘Yeah, Perry may be yelling at me most of the day now but man I feel good.’ It feels good to look at your photo, know, to anticipate, and to be excited for the end of the day because I’ll be going straight to Wayne Manor to see you.

“But I know it hurts you to see me. I know that you and Dick and Jason and Tim hate more than words could ever express. And I know how much you’d rather me just leave and let you be, but I can’t, Bruce. I can’t do that to you. I can’t leave you again. I understand if you don’t want me to enter this safe bubble you’ve built for you and your children—I know you don’t want to let me in, but please don’t push me away again, Bruce. Please…”

Clark tried to fight his tears, but they came anyway.

Bruce pulled some tissue from the tissue box beside him and gave it to Clark. “I never hated you, Clark,”

Clark looked up at him with teary eyes and sniffled. “Really?”

“Really,” Bruce nodded. He handed Clark more tissue. “For now, I think you should go back to bed. I’ll get something to eat,”

“No,” Clark hurriedly wiped his tears and snot away, and stood up. “I’ll get it for you. Do you have anything you want to eat in mind?”

Bruce smiled in thanks for Clark’s consideration. “Some cereal would be nice, just so we won’t have to wake Alfred. And a glass of water, please,”

“Okay, sure, I can get you that,” Clark blew his nose.

Bruce chuckled.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Bruce handed him the tissue box. “More tissue?”

Clark had to hold back his laugh. Bruce suddenly sounded like his own mom. “I’m good, Bruce. Thank you,”

“That’s good,” Bruce put the tissue box back on the bedside drawer, and watched Clark leave the room.

Bruce ate his cereal, and found himself amused when Clark fell asleep on him on the couch. To pass the time and make himself sleepy again, he read some news, and did some work in bed in the dimly lit room. He decided to try and get some more sleep at around four in the morning. He woke up around nine to Clark hurrying to get dressed, saying that he was late for work. Conner was laughing as he watched Clark speed around trying to get his shit together.

“Bye, bye, Kal!” Conner giggled, reaching up to Clark for a hug.

Clark picked him up and peppered his face with kisses. Conner shrieked with more giggling. “Bye, bye, Kon. I’ll see you later, okay?” he turned to Bruce. “Good morning,”

“Good morning,” Bruce replied easily. “Late for work?”

“You have no idea. Gotta run. Fly, I mean,” Clark gave a laugh as he set Conner down on the bed. Absently, he added, “Love you, bye!” he kissed Bruce’s cheek and zoomed out of the room, leaving a gust of wind behind him.

Bruce stared at the doors leading to his balcony, where Clark had exited. Did he really hear him right?

“Kal loves you, Mommy!” Conner said excitedly, “Kal said he loves me too!”

Bruce let the initial shock wear off and smiled at Conner before gathering him into his arms. “He said that?”

“Uh-huh! And for breakfast Kal made yummy butter bread and it had sugar in it and fluffy eggs and tiny sausage circles and, and, and, and, and apple juice!” (1)

Bruce laughed. “Did you enjoy spending time with Kal?”

“YEEEEESSS!” he yelled. “And he said we can go to Grandma and Grandpa and have apple pie! Can he come back again please, Mommy?”

“Maybe,” answered Bruce. “If you want him to come back, just yell his name, and he’ll hear you,”

“Really?!” Conner’s eyes widened. “And he’ll come play with me again?”

“If he’s not too busy keeping the world safe for you,” Bruce ruffled his hair. “Would you care to join me for my breakfast?”

“YES!”

* * *

 

Clark ended up in Smallville rather than work.

“MA!” a paled and panicked Clark rushed into his childhood home.

“Clark?” Ma came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron, obviously in the middle of preparing something. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“I’m not okay!” said Clark hysterically. “I KISSED HIM!  I KISSED HIM WITHOUT PERMISSION!”

“What kind of kiss?”

“MA!”

“I wanna know what kind!” Ma shrugged.

Clark frowned. “Well,” he said shyly. “Just on the cheek. Before I flew for work. Now I think I’m fired. And ended up here when I realized what I’d done. And I might have, probably, accidentally, absentmindedly told him I love him before leaving,”

Ma chuckled. “That’s actually kind of cute. How is that bad?”

“I don’t know!” Clark whined childishly. “He’s going to kill me!”

“No, he’s not,” Ma went back to the kitchen.

“Maaaa,”

Ma came back out with a cookie, and shoved it in Clark’s mouth. “Go back to my future son in law and grandchild, honey,”

“Buf Ma,”

“No buts,” said Ma gently as she pressed a finger to Clark’s mouth to keep him from talking with his mouth full. “He loves you. I know he does. He’s just a little stubborn. Show and tell him your feelings, Clark,”

Clark swallowed the cookie.  “Okay,”

“Now go before you get fired,”

“I think I’ll call and take an emergency leave,” said Clark thoughtfully. “Spend the day with him. I want to finally clear things up with him,”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Sliced sausages I guess? xD


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta’d. I’m sorry. I wrote this down rushed in a notebook then typed it down. Someone gave me Witcher 3 for my birthday and that’s all I’ve been doing, I’m sorry. My internship is over, but we’re working on our thesis so I’m not sure when the next chapter will be.
> 
> Witcher 3 is fucking amazing just to let you know since I mentioned it anyways. 30 hours in and idk how far along in the story I am. 30 hours into Witcher 2, I was in my second play through. 
> 
> I'm somewhat disappointed in Arkham Knight by the way, since I based a whole chapter on this on the Arkham games. If you'd like to know what I thought of it, you can read my review here: http://littlechinesedoll.tumblr.com/post/128766556526/arkham-knight-review. I will probably add more thoughts to that later.

By the time Clark finished all the things he needed to attend to at work to get that emergency leave, it was past noon. Bad time at the office to ask for an emergency leave, but he did all he could, and no amount of angry Perry or Lois would get him to stay.

On the way to Wayne Manor, he picked up some snacks, several bags of junk food and cans of soda. Wasn’t much, but at least the kids would have something to munch on while playing games, whatever kind of games kids played these days.

His earpiece beeped, and the Watchtower communication system told him it was Diana calling. “Diana?” he stopped midair, holding a bag of food, and decided it was better to land on top of a nearby building to take the call.

“Kal,” Diana said anxiously.

“Diana, is there something wrong?” Clark asked worriedly.

“No,” she answered quickly. “No. Nothing is wrong. Would be okay to meet with you? If you’re not busy, I have some things I’d like to talk with you about,”

Clark held up the bag and stared at it. There wasn’t anything that could spoil in there anyway, so why not? He hadn’t had a proper talk with any of the League members other than Bruce or Dick, so talking with Diana sounded like a good idea.

“Sure,” said Clark almost too excitedly. “Where do you want to meet?”

“The League conference room,”

Clark raised a brow. “Is it gonna be just us or…”

“Just us,”

“Okay, I’ll meet you there in twenty minutes,”

Clark went back to Metropolis and put the food on the table in his apartment before rushing to the Watchtower. It didn’t take him twenty minutes, but he didn’t want the soda getting shaken up and the chips getting crushed from the speed of the flight.

He was welcomed to the tower with greetings of a good afternoon and smiles, and some excited rookies waved at him, and he waved back. When he entered the conference room, it was dim, and only the light from the sun that came through the windows illuminated the room. Diana stood by the window, watching the blue marble down below they called home.

“Diana?” said Clark as the door whooshed closed.

“Kal,” Diana turned around and smiled somberly. “I’m glad you could make it,”

Clark’s brows met in concern, and was immediately by her side. “Is there something wrong?”

Diana tried to look him in the eye, but found that she couldn’t. “I only wanted to apologize for the way I, and the rest of us, though I do not speak for them, have acted,”

Clark’s expression softened. He didn’t expect that. He found himself panicking to say his apologies as well.

“I’m the one who’s supposed to be sorry, Diana—”

She held her hand up, which silenced Clark immediately.

“We were out of line, and let our emotions get the best of us. Instead of helping you get back on your feet, we consistently and cruelly pushed you back down. That’s not how friends are supposed to treat friends,”

She paused, and turned her gaze to the window, and looked at the stars.

“You were gone a long time, Kal. We missed you dearly, but no one wanted you back more than Bruce. And we are, more than anything, happy that you’re with us again,”

Clark’s shoulders sank. His eyes shifted from her face to the floor, unable to her at her, the feeling of shame engulfing his very being. “For what it’s worth, if it’s worth anything at all, I’m sorry. For leaving, for hurting all of you like that. I know I haven’t said it to you, because I’ve been too wrapped up in trying to make Bruce see I’m not going anywhere. You know, some part of me said that I deserved it. Some part of me said that I didn’t. I’m just glad that we’re on the same side about keeping Bruce and Kon safe,”

“I really am sorry, Kal,” Diana quickly pulled him into a tight hug.

“I’m sorry, too. I’m really sorry,” Clark hugged back.

Diana let go and gave him a genuine smile. “Take care of Bruce, Kal. He’s gone through much pain,”

“I know,” Clark nodded. “If it weren’t for you guys so adamant on keeping Bruce away from me, I wouldn’t have realized how important he is to me. So I guess I have to thank you for that. And I am trying to make up to him and the boys. It’s not gonna be easy, I know that, but Diana,”

He exhaled, like he didn’t know what to do with breath in his lungs, and paced, like he couldn’t contain the feelings in his chest. He wished he could share to her what he felt, make her see what he saw. He felt like this overwhelming sense of pride, like his heart had grown three sizes, and this good kind of warmth he wished would never have to go away.

“When I see the kid I just—I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if I want to just hold him, and kiss those chubby cheeks, and give him everything he asks for. I want to take him flying and show him the world. He’s just so perfect. I write for a living and I can’t even find the words to describe him. He’s just, he’s so freaking adorable,”

Diana watched him ramble on with a fond smile, and the look on Clark’s face was pure and genuine joy. “He is a piece of work, isn’t he?”

“And you should’ve seen him, Diana, the way he looked at me the first time Bruce introduced us,” he said excitedly. “He was so angry at me he probably could’ve thrown me out the window if he wanted to. I think he thought I was going to steal Bruce from him. It was terrifying. Bruce found it rather hilarious,”

She chuckled. “You’re happy,”

Clark took a deep breath. He got way too excited. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Yeah, I am,”

“I’m glad,” she put a hand on his shoulder. “I wish you and Bruce all the best, Kal. May Hera bless you and your family,” (1)

“Thank you,” Clark couldn’t help but pull her into a hug again. Her words made his eyes well up. “That means a lot to me,”

\------

He landed discreetly on the property past one in the afternoon, and made his way towards the front door. He pressed the doorbell, and as soon as Alfred opened it, he was greeted by a bouncy four year old running towards him with a messy mouth. Clark guessed applesauce was part of the lunch menu.

“KAL!”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Kent,” Alfred said as he opened the door wide for Clark to step inside.

“Good afternoon, Alfred, thanks,” Clark replied politely as he entered. He set the bag down and caught Conner. “Hey! How are you?” he fished his handkerchief from his pocket, and wiped the applesauce from Conner’s mouth.

“Please, sir, no need for—” said Alfred, trying to save Clark’s clean hankie. “…that,”

“It’s alright,” said Clark, “It’s just applesauce,”

“At least let me wash it, sir,” Alfred insisted.

“Alfred, it’s okay. It’s just a handkerchief and some applesauce,” Clark lifted Conner off the floor and grabbed the bag of food. “So, where’s Mommy?” he asked Conner.

“As you wish, sir,” Alfred sighed, watching Conner steer their guest into the kitchen.

“Mommy!” said Conner as they entered the kitchen, where Bruce was washing some dishes and glasses that they used for lunch.

Bruce turned around, and was taken by surprise when he saw Clark setting Conner and a bag down on the counter. “I thought you were at work,” he said, carefully setting the dishes and glasses on the drying rack. He reached for the hand towel hanging on hook near the sink, and dried his hands with it.

“I asked for an emergency leave,” Clark replied, bringing out the food and sodas onto the counter. “Thought the kids might like these,”

Bruce shot him an unimpressed look. “You know I don’t like giving any of them junk food,”

“They’re kids,” Clark lightly tried to reason, “Some junk food every once in a while wouldn’t be bad,”

“GUMMY BEARS!” Conner squealed when he saw Clark take a small packet of candy from the bag. “Mommy!” Conner tried to grab it from Clark.

“Conner, what did I say about sweets?” said Bruce, eyeing Clark, hoping that he could get the message across that he didn’t want Conner eating candy.

“Please, Mommy!” Conner begged without a pout.  

“Don’t start with me, Conner,” said Bruce tightly.

 _Oh, damn_ , Clark thought when he saw Conner’s pout. The kid was going to cry and he didn’t want that. “C’mon, Bruce, it’s just gummy bears,” he said, trying to side with Conner.

Bruce turned to Clark raised a brow at him. _Excuse me?_

 _Shit_. Suddenly he felt like he dug his own grave. “Please?” he offered weakly.

“Please!” Conner parroted. “I’ll share with you and Kal, and Dickie, and Jay, and Timmy, and Alfred, please!”

Bruce felt his eye twitch. “Half of the pack, Clark,” Bruce relented. “ _Half of it._ I will make you eat that plastic bag if—”

Clark quickly tore the pack open for Conner.

“Yay!” Conner clapped his tiny hands, and happily ate the red colored bear Clark pressed to his lips. “Yum!”

Bruce shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Here,” Clark grabbed a small bowl from the cupboard, put half of the gummy bears in it, and gave the rest of it to Conner, who excitedly, but carefully, got off the counter on his own and ran upstairs.

“Dickie!” he heard him yell.

“No running!” Bruce called after him.

“Yes, mommy!”

Bruce sighed and sat on the nearest stool. “Sugar right after lunch before his afternoon nap, that’s a great idea, Clark,”

Clark chuckled. “Hey,” he said as he moved over to Bruce who was on the other side of the counter. “I’m here to help, remember?”

“I know,” Bruce said reluctantly. He got back up on his feet and continued cleaning up the mess from their lunch, thinking that maybe scrubbing the counter until it shone like the stars would be a good distraction from this morning’s events. Besides, Alfred was probably upstairs, busy trying to wake up Dick and preparing his clothes for later today at the office.

Of course he knew. How could he forget that Clark wanted to help? He was always there, a constant presence that he somehow wanted to have and feared having at the same time. But he’d try, because of Conner.

He heard water running from the faucet behind him, and Clark was continuing with the dishes he’d forgotten. “Look, Clark,”

Clark turned the water off and turned around. “Yes?”

“I’m not trying to antagonize you,” Bruce said hesitantly, and then he was unable to say anything more. He had a reason, and that he didn’t mean for his words and actions to sound like he disagreed with Clark’s approach to Conner.

“I know,” said Clark quietly.

Bruce let out another sigh, hoping the words he wanted to say would come out of his mouth, but they wouldn’t. They never could.

Ma Kent used to say, or still said, that Conner looked so much like Clark when he was little. She used to hover, back in France when Conner was a newborn. He knew Ma meant well with her hovering, and he knew she only did it because she knew Bruce didn’t have any experience with children so young. But to Bruce, it caused more damage than help, and was thankful that Pa Kent saw through it.

Ma and Pa Kent were there to help, not to replace.

But that was how Bruce felt. It was a huge blow on Bruce’s confidence and will to raise Conner. In that single week that Ma unintentionally hovered, Bruce almost considered giving her the baby, but he couldn’t even let go of him. Her expertise in children made Bruce feel worthless, and incapable of caring for his own son. On those few days, Bruce almost wished he didn’t bed Clark. He wished for Clark back even more so.

He still believed it, at times. Those dreams where Conner was resentful of him. Sometimes he wondered if he’d ever be able to leave the prison he put himself in.

Pa Kent had a word with Ma, and she stopped, though she still gave great advice, and Bruce was grateful for that. In Conner’s own little ways, he slowly made Bruce feel like he was important. Like how he’d calm down immediately when he was there, they he hungrily fed and looked up at him so intensely with the same blue eyes Clark had. This child was the only thing he had of Clark left. And even if Clark decided to come back, there was no reassurance that he would take responsibility, no reassurance that he wouldn’t take the child from him, like all the other alphas who didn’t like the omega they’d somehow bred.

But Clark was here with him. He chose to be here with him, helping take care of Conner, playing with him, telling him stories, giving small trinkets as presents.

And telling them he loved them both.

That was far from what he’d imagined would happen. His fears as an omega clashed with rational thought. At times, those fears won.

He knew Clark wasn’t a real alpha. He knew he would never take the baby, but feared Clark would, and turned out just like those other alphas whose files in court granted them custody of their omegas’ children. He _knew_ Clark would never be those things, but he feared he might be. He was terrified.

“Hey,” Clark said worriedly, guiding Bruce onto the stool to sit.

“Huh?” Bruce looked at him.

“If you don’t feel well, sit this one out, and I’ll clean up,”

Bruce couldn’t find it in himself to protest, and blankly watched Clark move around the kitchen.

Things were changing. He just didn’t know whether they were for the best. For the longest time, the thought and dreamed of Clark’s return, that there would be a fairy tale happy ending, and a blissful happily ever after. But did he actually want that? They’d always been fine by themselves, and Jason’ though some might look at it differently, Jason was doing just fine as his alpha, and, while a little rough around the edges, an absolute sweetheart.

“Maybe you should go lie down,”

“What?” Bruce looked up at him.

Clark stared at him. “Bruce, are you sure you’re supposed to be on your feet already? Did you eat lunch?” 

“Yes, yes,” Bruce answered rather quickly in a defensive tone. “I’m fine and yes, I’ve had lunch. I just have a lot on my mind,”

Clark wasn’t that kind of person, his logic insisted, but nothing could stop him from thinking that Clark only said the things he wanted to hear, so he could stay and continue seeing Conner, and this wasn’t going to be a permanent thing.

“Bruce,” said Clark cautiously, knowing that he was walking on eggshells and should tread carefully. “I meant what I said this morning. I do love you. I’m not saying it out of responsibility for Kon, like what you’re thinking right now,”

Bruce’s eyes widened. _What?_

“I know, because that’s how you make me feel,” Clark’s shoulders sank for the second time that day. “I understand your reluctance in giving me your trust. And I guess, I, of all people, know more than anyone how difficult it is to earn your trust. And I swear that I’m not lying when I told you this morning that I love you. I’d never lie about that,”

Bruce didn’t know what to feel. He was stunned, petrified, happy, and terrified—like he wanted to wrap his arms around Clark and hold onto him tightly and never let go, and run at the same time.

“I’m not asking you to make a decision, or give me an answer. I just want you to know that I won’t give up on you,”

He couldn’t take his eyes off him.

“I’ll always be here for you, Bruce. Even if you think otherwise, I’m not going anywhere,” Clark leaned in and pressed a kiss on Bruce’s forehead.

It took Bruce a few moments to let that sink in, and when he’d finally processed what Clark had said, again no words that mattered came out of his mouth. “Thank you, Clark, for your honesty,” he hopped off the stool. “I’ll go check on Conner,” he said, and left the kitchen.

Clark sighed, wondering when Bruce would tell him what he really felt and wanted to happen. He watched Bruce leave, and put the food in the pantry, and the sodas in the fridge.

\---

Bruce found Conner in Dick’s room, finishing Alfred’s task of waking up his eldest, and the pack of candy lied forgotten on Dick’s nightstand.

“Buddy, don’t be noisy,” groaned Dick as he pulled Conner under the sheets with him.

Conner squealed, laughed and thrashed under the sheets. Bruce pulled the blanket off them. “Richard, time to get up. You need to be at work in an hour,”

“I don’t wanna go to school,” Dick whined. “Five more minutes,”

Bruce gently took Conner from Dick’s arms, and Conner’s thrashing made his foot hit Dick’s nose. Bruce chuckled.

“Ow!” Dick put his hand to his nose, making sure it wasn’t bleeding. “Oh my God, you two are so mean!” he said as he sat up. “What’s a vigilante have to do to get some sleep around here?”

“Go take a shower, downstairs and have brunch,” said Bruce. “Then get ready for work,”

“Your clothes for today, sir,” Alfred stepped out of Dick’s closet, and laid out Dick’s outfit for the day.

“Five more minutes,” Dick lied back down and put a pillow over his head.

\---

Jason took a bottle of beer from the fridge, and popped it open. He watched Clark dry the plates. It infuriated him.

He took a long swig of the ice cold beer. “You know what’s annoying?”

Clark winced, stopped what he was doing and turned around. “No,” he answered stupidly.

“When some cocksucking piece of shit motherfucker beats the shit out of you and kills you with a crowbar and a bomb,”

Clark did not like where this was going at all.

“Know what’s even more annoying than that?” Jason pressed.

Clark shook his head. Jason took another swig of the beer.

“A bitch who buries you and does nothing about it. One thing that’s even more annoying than that? Another cocksucking piece of shit motherfucker who plays god and brings you back to life. But you know what really gets on my nerves?”

Clark didn’t dare shake his head this time.

“Is an even bigger piece of shit dickbag asshole, who’s going to fucking take away everything I’ve fixed and built from the fucking ground up,” Jason’s voice rose, “just because he came back from some dread rock a few light years away. Who just waltzed into my fucking house like some fucking winning warrior knight in fucking beat up armor on a fucking white horse waiting to be fucking celebrated!”

Jason turned red from the rage.

“You think just because I let you in here, just because I let you help him with his heat, just because I let you spend time with them, that I’m going to let you feel like you have any place here?”

Clark knew Jason had all the right to do this to him, but he didn’t want to just stand there. “No, I—”

“You’re fucking dead wrong!” Jason snarled at him. “I was here. I took care of him, took care of KOn. I kept him together, and I will fucking continue to keep him together without you! I will keep on doing my duties as his alpha, but you know what really takes the cake, asshole?”

Jason resisted the urge to throw the bottle at Clark.

“Is that despite all the shit you put him through, despite all the shit you put this family through, he’s still going to choose you,”

He shouldn’t answer back. He shouldn’t. “Then tell me what to do! What do I have to do?”

“I want you to leave!” yelled Jason. “That’s what I want you to do! That’s what I’ve always wanted you to do! I want you to leave us alone, and do whatever you did back then before all this shitstorm. Go to your ice castle, fuck Lois Lane, save a kitty stuck up a tree—I DON’T GIVE A SHIT!”

“I can’t do that—”

“And you know what else I want? I want him to choose me!” tears fell from Jason’s eyes. “I want to be the more important one, because I’m his alpha, not you! I was there making tea at fuck knows what time trying to help calm down the nausea; I was the one beside him when Kon was born; I was the one changing diapers and feeding at four in the fucking morning with a meeting a seven; I was here when Kon first talked, walked, and ate solid food; I helped teach him to read, count, and tell colors apart. I WAS HERE, AND YOU WEREN’T! AND I LOVE BOTH OF THEM MORE THAN YOU EVER WILL!”

“Jason,”

The second Robin turned to the voice. There, standing at the kitchen door threshold, was his adoptive father. “Bruce,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Hera is a Greek goddess and is Diana’s patroness, and aside from being the queen of the gods, she’s also the goddess of marriage, women, childbirth, and family.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'd.

Jason was thankful that the sound of the rustling leaves, the warmth of the sunshine raining down between them, and the soft chirps of birds and squirrels had somehow managed to calm him down. He sighed and looked at his knuckles. They were scratched, grazed, bruised and bleeding. He had taken out his anger on the trunk of the tree whose branch he was sitting on.

He had every right to be angry; he just didn’t expect that right would make him feel like an immature piece of shit. Well, he’d always known was a little shit, and that he was capable of an immense level of immaturity rivalling Conner’s tantrums on not getting bananas in his pancakes, but that didn’t make him feel like he might have just shoved the biggest fucking wedge between him and Bruce worse than the crowbar incident.

Leaning back on the trunk, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He’d probably fall and break something if he fell asleep, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Hey,”

“Please go away,” said Jason. "I want to be alone for a while, Bruce,"

Bruce sighed. "It would make me feel better if you let me treat your hands," he saw the blood on the trunk of the tree, dried on its bark. "Please come down from there, Jason, and let me treat your hands,"

With some reluctance, Jason hopped off from the tree, and landed gracefully, albeit heavily, on his feet, and sat down on the cool grass. Bruce put a blanket around his shoulders, and sat down in front of him and started disinfecting the wounds.

"Hey! Ow!" Jason frowned and tried to pull his hand back. "Watch it!"

"Oh, shush you," said Bruce fondly, and didn't let Jason get his hand back. "Don't be such a big baby,"

"Why didn't you bring the ones that don't sting?" Jason complained.

"Come now," Bruce pulled on Jason's hand when he tried withdrawing it once more. "You've gonethrough things much worse than stinging disinfectant,"

"Yeah, I had morphine most of the time, then died," said Jason bitterly as he scowled at Bruce.

"Tch," Bruce snorted. He started to wrap the knuckles in bandages. "I just think you're complaining because you're wallowing in the attention,"

Jason fell quiet. Bruce was right though.

Bruce tied the bandages off, and made sure they wouldn't loosen, unravel, and fall off too fast. "Other hand," he said, and Jason obediently put his hand on Bruce's knee to start working on.

Jason winced, and Bruce paused for a second when Jason's hand twitched. Bruce chuckled.

"What?" he frowned.

"Nothing," said Bruce. He just liked remembering times when Dick and Jason were little, of all the times the cried, something they would never admit now as adults.

Bruce finished up the wrappings, and put the medical supplies back in the first aid kit. "So are you coming back inside with me or are you staying here until dinner?"

Jason couldn't look at him. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "About the things I said," Bruce probably thought he was stupid thinking the grass looked more interesting than his face. "I mean I'm sorry that I said it, but I'm nto sorry about the content and who I said to. And how I said it. I won't say sorry to him. Because that's how I feel,"

He pulled the blanket tighter around him, and still didn't look at Bruce when he moved to sit beside him. His surrogate father didn't speak immediately, leaving Jason to more of thoughts attempting to justify his actions earlier that day.

Jason just didn't want things to change, much like Bruce. But mostly because he was selfish and he wanted Bruce to stay with him. He didn't want Bruce taken from him, like he was taken away from Bruce. Was it so bad that he just wanted to matter? To be important? To be number one for once? Was it so bad that just plainly didn't like Clark? That he felt like a child who didn't like their parent's new boyfriend?

"One day, you'll get to know someone well enough to say that they'll be a good mate,"

Jason scoffed. "Look how that turned out for you,"

"Mhm,"

"Do you..." Jason felt like he didn't want to finish his question. "Do you still think he's a good mate?"

Bruce noted the reluctance in his son's voice. He knew his answer was not something Jason wanted to hear.

"Yes," Bruce said after a thoughtful pause. "He's proving to be a good one; it's very difficult for me to deny it,"

"Okay," Jason said softly. What if Bruce tossed him out after completing his bond with Clark? "So I guess I should get my things packed, huh?" He'd rather take initiative than wait to be told that he's homeless again.

"I'm not kicking you out, you stupid child,"

That made Jason look at Bruce. "You're not?"

"Of course now. I don't see any reason why,"

"But you're going to bond with him," Jason carefully studied Bruce's face, looking for any indication that proved he was lying.

Bruce took a moment to absorb the look on Jason's face. He looked scared, helpless, like he'd bolt the moment Bruce said something he expectedly dreaded. "So?"

Jason now looked like he was on the verge of crying. "You're not kicking me out?"

"I don't like repeating myself, Jason," Bruce's lips turned up slightly into a smile.

His second eldest tried his best not to burst out crying. He was a bit successful at it. "You're not going to kick me out," he said with a sniffle.

Bruce ruffled his boy's hair. "No," he chuckled. "Where the hell did you get that idea?"

Jason hiccupped. "I saw this drama on TV,"

That made Bruce laugh. Jason had so much talent, so many achievements, shouldered so many responsibilities, and yet, he was still just a child. "Remember when you were young, I said something about TV?"

"'Don't believe everything you see on TV,'" Jason wiped away the tears with the blanket covering him.

"Seems like you forgot that one," Bruce handed him his handkerchief.

Jason took it gratefully, and blew his nose, and tried to pull himself together. "What if Superman kicks me out?"

"Not if I kick him out first,"

"Promise?"

"Promise,"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that this family isn't good with feelings.
> 
> Also because this chapter is short. ;_;


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M ALIIIVVEEEEE. 
> 
> i am so sorry this took so long. i finished my thesis in december (i'm gonna graduate in february fuck yeah guys), i was out of town most of christmas, and I have been doing nothing but play Metal Gear Solid V The Phantom Pain. I have 204 hours on that thing. It's so fucking good and I'm sorry that I let it take over my life and take you guys away from this story. 
> 
> anyhoo i hope you like this update cos it's written at like 3am and it's unbetad as usual and im gonna go to bed now.
> 
> Warning: I’ve never watched the series Smallville, so Smallville OCs for just the purpose of this chapter.

Ma thought Bruce’s kids sometimes took their nicknames too seriously. From the porch, she watched Jason, who was perched on a branch on a tree near the house. He had a bottle of cold beer with him, and a lit cigarette.

She sighed sadly as she watched the boy take a long drag from the cigarette. Jason was a child with vices. All three boys were children forced to grow up too fast, and had faced the dangers of the world much too early.

“You alright up there?” she asked as she approached the tree.

Jason blew out the smoke and took a swig of the beer. “I’d say yes, but then I’d be lying,” he answered.

“Those are bad for you, you know,” said Ma softly after a while.

If he weren’t talking to the closest thing he had to a grandmother, he’d probably say ‘Well, at least I know I’ll die by liver cirrhosis or lung cancer if ever the field doesn’t kill me first,’ but instead he settled for “I know,”

Ma nodded. “Will you come down for me, please?”

Jason debated going down or not, but went down anyway. He landed with a loud thud, very much unlike Bruce, Dick, or Tim. He threw the cigarette on the ground and stepped on it to put it out.

“You’re going to have to pick that up and put in in the trash can, dear,” she said gently with a chuckle.

Jason gripped the beer bottle tighter.

“I know it’s hard, honey,” Ma put a reassuring hand on Jason’s shoulder. “But I’m proud of you for being a big boy about all of this,”

Jason frowned at her. “I don’t want to be a big boy about this anymore,” he said. “I never wanted to be a big boy about this in the first place,”

“Nothing would be fixed if you didn’t put your big boy pants on, and that was very brave of you, Jason,” Ma cupped his face. “It might not be what you want, but it is the best for everyone, and I’m not just saying this because Clark is my son, but because I think everybody deserves a second chance. That means for you to get your chance at your own family, for Clark to get a second chance with Bruce, for Bruce to get another chance at Clark, and for Conner to get a chance to get to know his father,”

The frown didn’t leave Jason’s handsome face. “I never really thought of a family of my own—I mean I’ve only ever thought of being Bruce’s alpha,”

“Well, I think now it’s time for you to find a new dream, dear,” Ma smiled at him.

“I don’t think it’s gonna be that easy,” Jason said softly.

“When are things ever easy?” asked Ma gently, “But you’re a wonderful boy, Jason. I’m sure you’ll be fine,” she lightly pinched his cheek, making Jason, a six foot wall of muscle, feel like he’s ten years old. “C’mon, we’re about to serve lunch. Pick up that cigarette butt and throw it away. No beers under the tree, either,”

“Yes, Ma,” Jason obediently picked up the cigarette butt, and jogged over to the back of the house to deposit the burned off filter into the trash bin.

When he made his way back over to the tree, Dick was laying a picnic blanket down on the grass, under the tree he was perched in a while ago. Bruce, Pa Kent, and Ma Kent came out of the house holding baskets of food, Tim behind them with paper plates, and plastic cups and cutlery, Conner excitedly following Tim holding a bottle of soda, and Clark the last to emerge from the quaint home carrying a large cooler, no doubt containing the rest of the drinks and maybe some secret dessert Ma made, and an ice chest. Jason watched as Bruce, and Ma lay out the food, and Tim distribute the plates, and Clark hand out cups with ice and soda.

“Well, don’t just stand there!” said Bruce, waving his hand, beckoning Jason to come over.

“Hurry, Jay!” Conner yelled. “There’s apple pie! And ice cream!” he clapped his tiny hands in excitement.

Jason let out an amused sigh, and chuckled, and put his foot forward and walked over. “So, what do we got?”

It was Clark who handed him a plate of fried chicken, creamy garlic pasta, a slice of the many boxes of pizza they brought over from Gotham, and a red cup of ice and Mountain Dew. “I hope you like Mountain Dew,” Clark said with a smile, a little too cheerfully for Jason’s mood.

“Thanks,” he said blandly, taking the plate and cup, and went to the other side of the blanket, at the foot of the tree, distanced from everybody else. He was about to pick up his chicken when a white plastic packet him square in the face. “HEY!”

It was Conner’s high pitched giggle that Jason heard the loudest.

“Whoops, I threw it wrong,” said Dick, innocently, “I wouldn’t want you eating with your hands dirty, Jay,”

Jason looked at the white packet. They were wet hand wipes.

Tim chuckled, and Bruce gave Dick a glare.

Jason ripped the packet open, pulled out one of the wipes, pressed the sticky plastic back on to seal it, and then threw it back at Dick’s head, which the older one expertly caught. “Ugh!”

“That’s enough, boys,” admonished Pa lightly. “There’s no room for fights in this farm,”

“Yes, Pa,” both boys chorused, and Jason watched as his little family mingled, and enjoyed the cool breeze and the warm rays of sunshine that rained down on them between the leaves.

“I washed my hands too, Jay!” said Conner as he picked up his chicken leg.

Jason grumbled as he used the hand wipe, and picked up his own piece of chciken. “That’s great, buddy!” he said, trying to be cheerful for his baby brother.

“Here, Bruce,” Clark said as he prepared Bruce his lunch plate. “Don’t worry about Kon, I’ll make sure he eats his food,” he turned to Conner. “Right, big guy?”

“Mhmm!” Conner nodded, stabbing one of the twisty pasta pieces with this kiddie fork. “Yum, yum!”

“If you say so,” Bruce said lightly, hoping Clark would have a more entertaining lunch with Conner.

Jason wished he had a hard time with Conner. But that wasn’t going to happen. Conner like being a good boy for Bruce and his grandparents too much. Being a fun little shit, however, he liked being with him, Dick, and Tim.

Lunch went by relatively casualty free, and everybody was able to have a slice of apple pie with ice cream. The ice cream, Clark had the foresight to freeze solid with his breath, so that it’d still be cold and creamy, and not soupy when they put it on their apple pie.

The boys, minus Conner, were the ones who clean up after lunch, while Clark and Ma washed plates and put the leftovers away.

“Do you mind going out to pick some things up for dinner, Clark?” asked Ma as she rinsed a plate of its suds.

“Sure thing,” Clark answered as he put the plates back in the cupboard.

“Bring Bruce with you, and maybe your boy, too,” Ma handed Clark the plate for him to dry. “It might do them good to see some of the busyness of Smallville,” she wiped her hands on the towel hanging on a hook nearby.

“Why not?” Clark dried the plate, and put it away. “Do you need me to get them now?”

“If you can,” nodded Ma as she moved towards the table, and started to snap close the lids of the plastic containers that held the leftovers. “I’m going to have to prepare a nice dinner for Bruce,” she said, depositing the containers into the fridge. She took a piece of paper stuck to the fridge door, and handed it over to Clark. “Here’s your list,”

“Alright,” said Clark as he scanned the list. “Be back in a jiff, Ma,”

“Oh, no,” said Ma as she shooed him out of the kitchen. “Take your time, and take the truck,”

Ma heard Clark let go of the screen door out front, and went back to cleaning up.

“What are you planning?” asked Pa playfully as he went through the house’s back door.

“Nothing,” said Ma just as playfully. “Just think they need some time together, those three,”

“Right,” Pa chuckled.

“Shush, you,”

* * *

 

Conner giggled as Clark drove out of the Kent farm, the boy’s hair flowing in the wind. “Grandpa’s truck!” he said excitedly. “Vroom!”

Clark laughed. “You having fun?”

“Grandpa’s truck is awesome!” he exclaimed. “I’m gonna have a truck too, when I’m growed up! Can I have a truck when I’m growed up, Mommy?” he looked up at Bruce.

“As long as you learn how to drive first,” Bruce smiled at him.

The drive consisted of Conner pointing a lot, mostly at neighboring farms’ trucks, and that he was gonna have his trucks in all the colors of the rainbow, and that he was going to get Bruce a farm so that they could have fun feeding chickens and making apple pie with Alfred.

“We’re gonna plant a lotta apple trees, Mommy!” said Conner solemnly.

“Alright, but first,” said Bruce as Clark parked in front of a midsized grocery store. “We’re going to get some things first at the store, okay?” he chuckled when Conner enthusiastically nodded.

Bruce slid out of the truck when Clark shut it off, and helped Conner jump out.  The boy ran over to the other side of the vehicle, and raised his arms up at Clark, asking to be picked up.

“Up!” Conner said hopefully, smiling at Clark, thinking being cute would work because it rarely worked with Bruce.

Clark gladly lifted him off the ground and peppered kisses on the child’s chubby cheeks. “What do you say we ask Grandma to make us chocolate mousse for dessert tonight, huh?” he asked as he led Bruce into the shop.

“Clark,” said Bruce warningly.

Bruce expected a bell to sound off when they opened the door, but there was none, and he found himself strangely disappointed. The establishment had a country feel and look to it, which Bruce found interesting. It looked somewhat like a big house, and had cream tiles, and right, white lighting, and red aprons on the employees who worked there.

“He’s got the whole farm to run around in, Bruce, and besides,” said Clark as he took a cart. “That’s what we’re here to shop for!”

“Chocolate!” Conner said excitedly. “Buy chocolate!”

Clark moved to put Conner in the child’s seat on the cart, but Conner put his head on his shoulder held onto him tighter.

“No!”

“Here, let me,” Bruce pushed the cart toward the aisles for him. “He’s never been in one, so it might be best for him to just stay with you,”

“So you wanna visit all the aisles, or go directly for what we’re here for?” asked Clark as they sauntered into the first aisle.

“I would like to help your parents a little,” answered Bruce as he looked around. He’d only been in the supermarket a few times. “We’ll get everything they need, and then some more,” and before Clark could protest like he always did when Bruce extended help to his parents, “And I’m not asking permission, and even if you say no, I’ll buy you the whole supermarket if you piss me off,”

“Alright,” said Clark in surrender, and let Bruce start filling up the cart. He smiled to himself, finding it refreshing to see Bruce do something so simple, yet look so frustrated as if he was reviewing a case he couldn’t solve, as he perused through the products on the shelves.

“Get over here and help me!” Bruce hissed, and Clark laughed.  

Two aisles later, Conner had fallen asleep. Bruce wanted to scoop him up and hold him himself, but let Clark have him. The child looked so darling with his face buried in Clark’s neck. It made his heart grow a size knowing Conner had warmed up to Clark, and that he was having a lot of fun with Clark trying his best to be involved with them.

And then half an hour later, both men, who were used to arguing in a conference room a thousand miles above the earth, found themselves debating in the middle of the supermarket about which detergent they should get.

“I’m going to get the biggest one. You’ll save more in the long run,” Bruce tried to take the sack from the shelf.

“It’s not like they’ll wash the whole town’s clothes!” argued Clark. “They don’t need that much, Bruce, and it’s all going to clump together and go bad if they don’t use it in time,”

“Well, they don’t have any other size of Tide!”

“Then get something else—”

“The commercials say Tide is the best one!”

 “Clark? Is that you?”

Clark turned around. “Mr. Baker!” he smiled. “How are you?” (1)

“Still alive, thank the Lord. In town visiting your folks?” Mr. Baker asked with a wide grin as he approached with his hand extended, offering Clark a handshake. “Been a while since I seen you! You’re looking pretty good!”

Clark took his hand and shook it firmly. “Yes, for the weekend. Bruce, this is Mr. Baker. He owns the store,”

Bruce shook his hand. “A fine establishment you have here, Mr. Baker,” he looked around Pa Kent’s age, wore a red plaid shirt, some rough jeans, and work boots. It relieved Bruce to know that some owners still liked to see to their businesses themselves and not hand it over to the next hired manager.

Mr. Baker gave a hearty laugh. “Why thank you, Bruce, is it? You having fun visiting humble ol’ Smallville? And who’s this adorable boy you got there!”

_Shit_ , Clark thought. He really wished Mr. Baker didn’t ask.

“This is our son, Conner,” Bruce said proudly, smoothly taking over the conversation.

The answer seemed to brighten up the cheerful man’s face even more. “You went and grown up got yourself a mate! I still remember you being a skinny thing helping your mom with her groceries!”

“That’s a very interesting picture you just described, Mr. Baker,” Bruce smiled. “And yes, I suppose Clark did get a mate,”

Clark chuckled nervously, embarrassed that Bruce had to hear that, and mortified that Bruce said what he said. “Yeah,”

“Wait ‘til the missus hearsa’ this little Clark with a family of his own—ha! Well I hate to be eating up more of your time. Have fun shopping. It was a pleasure meeting you, Bruce.” He said, extending his hand again to offer them both a shake.

Both men took his hand. “The pleasure is mine, Mr. Baker,”

“Take care of Bruce and your boy, now, Clark,” said Mr. Baker as he walked away.

“Yes, Mr. Baker,” replied Clark a little stiffly. He didn’t expect to be caught off guard like that, to just reveal everything Bruce had been carefully hiding, protecting Conner from attention.

When the man had disappeared, Clark mustered all of his courage to look Bruce in the eye. “I am so sor—”

“Don’t,” Bruce cut him off. “I don’t think you’re supposed to say sorry for introducing your family, Clark,” he said softly.

“What?” was all Clark could say, unable to properly process what he had just heard come from Bruce’s mouth.

Neither of them imagined they’d be sharing their first kiss in the middle of the detergent aisle in the supermarket.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) IDK who tf Mr. Baker is but let’s just pretend okay. This is the OC I was talking about.
> 
> please, PLEASE tell me what you think. i need feedback i'm dying here i need to know your feels and your gripes so i know how to piss you off or make you happy (or make the characters pissed or happy) in the next chapter.
> 
> thank you guys. belated merry christmas, a very happy new year, and advanced chinese new year (cos im chinese duh). i wish i could just send you all sticky nian gao (we call it tikoy) so you can eat that fucking amazing stuff. it's made of rice mashed up and turned into this fucking amazing rice cake that can come in different flavors it's just so amazing ok you all need to try it
> 
> alright that's enough blabbering im about to pass out as you can tell from this poorly capitalized and punctuated, drunk sounding end note


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Lunar New Year! I hope you got some red envelopes (CASH) for gifts! And that you got a lot of rice cakes because goddamn those are goooood. Hnnng. And it's the YEAR OF THE MONKEY AND I'M A MONKEY AND FUCK YEAH IT'S MY YEAR. It's not going so well though, because I'm still fun-employed. LOLOLOL. That's how I finished this. 
> 
> And holy shit the last time I greeted you guys a Happy Lunar New Year was in Chapter 9!! Damn, this story has been going on that long now? 
> 
> Anyhoo. I hope you like this chapter. Unbeta'd as usual.

The drive back to the farm was quiet. Mostly because Conner was curled up against Bruce’s chest, sleeping soundly. Clark glanced at them from time to time unable to keep from smiling.

 _Family,_ Bruce had said. He had a _family_.

He thought of whatever hell Jason was going to throw at him, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. He was way too happy, so happy that he felt his chest would burst. And if in any way he could share to Jason what he felt, he’d do it. But in a way, he knew Jason knew what he felt. He knew Jason knew what it felt like to just look at Bruce and Conner do something so incredibly mundane and get an overwhelming sense of joy.

No words were spoken when Clark pulled up in front of the Kent house. Bruce carefully got off the truck so he wouldn’t wake the sleeping child, and made his way up to Clark’s room to tuck Conner in for his nap. Clark took the groceries out of the back of the truck, and carried them into the kitchen.

* * *

Gently, Bruce set Conner down on the bed, and carefully took the tiny shoes off Conner’s delicate little feet. He fondly smiled as Conner groaned in protest of the movements. He fished Conner’s favorite stuffed bird from their bag, and placed it in his arms for him to hug. Bruce set the pair of small shoes on the floor near the nightstand, and deposited his coat in the closet. He returned to the bed and sat at the edge, running his hand through Conner’s hair.

Today, he finally said it. He wasn’t sure what was going on in his head, but he said it. They were a family. They always had been, Bruce was just too afraid to admit it. Too afraid that things would change too much, or that the truth he’d been keeping for far too long would finally be revealed and destroy what he tried to build.

He watched the child sleep as he reflected on his own selfishness, the walls he formed around himself that Clark broke through and again he tried to rebuild but failed spectacularly. Because every time Conner looked at him, told him he loved him, hugged him, kissed him, smiled at him, laughed at and with him, even when he cried, threw a tantrum, and did naughty things, he couldn’t help but think that Clark, even though he wasn’t there for them, was a part of Conner. And that meant a little bit of him was there with them, and at that time, it was enough for Bruce.

He wasn’t going to deny that he used to long for the pseudo-alpha’s presence. That deep inside he wanted him, as much as he wanted to deny it. But he stood strong for Conner; this omega didn’t his child’s father—his alpha—to raise him.

Then again a need was different from want.

Bruce hadn’t always wanted Clark to be there. He needed Clark to be there, especially at first. Then it turned into denial. He didn’t need him, not with Jason, Dick, Tim, and Alfred there for him, and he didn’t want him. Not even when he saw Clark back from Krypton. He didn’t want him. Not when he took care of him, apologized, cried, and begged to let him see Conner.

Until he saw him trying so hard to make it up to them. Bruce again found another thing to find disgusting about himself that he tried to keep Conner away from his father.

He turned to the door when he heard succeeding light knocks.

“Hey,” said Dick, “We’re gonna have to go. Diana needs me up there, and Alfred is subtly hinting he’s bored at home without anyone to cook for. Tim and I have a stakeout and Jason’s gonna go hit the red light district undercover recon for some uh, either drugs or human trafficking or both,”

Bruce nodded as he stood up. “Have you let Mr and Mrs Kent know?”

“We’re just about to,” Dick nodded, “The kiddies are getting ready,” he went in the room and placed a kiss on Conner’s hair. “See you tomorrow, buddy,” he whispered.

“We’re gonna bail now,” Jason said quietly from the door, Tim behind him, both already dressed to go like Dick.

“Alright,” Bruce arranged the pillows around Conner so he wouldn’t fall off the bed.

“Will you be alright?” asked Dick. “Tim can stay, you know,”

“Yes,” answered Bruce, sounding a little too reserved. “I’ll be fine, and you need back up. Tim is going with you,”

“If you say so,” said Dick with resign, watching Bruce leave the room.

* * *

 

“Oh my,” said Ma Kent as Clark set down several boxes. “I believe I only asked for a handful of things, Clark?” she asked worriedly.

“Bruce said he wanted to help,” said Clark. “There’s still some more things in the truck,”

“But he didn’t have to,” she put a hand to her mouth in shock, looking at all the boxes.

“He threatened to buy out the store if I didn’t let him get you the things you needed,” Clark shrugged.

Ma chuckled softly. “Bruce!” she said when Bruce entered the kitchen. “This was very generous of you, dear. You didn’t have to, but thank you,” she went over to him to give him a hug.

Bruce smiled and returned her hug. “I wanted to; I hope this helps,”

“It’s a very big help, Bruce, thank you so much,” she squeezed his hand gratefully, and started unpacking the groceries.

Pa came in through the back door, headed straight for the fridge to get something cool to drink, but stopped and cautiously eyed the amount of household items on the table with both awe and shock. “Clark, you didn’t loan all of this, did you?” he asked carefully.

Bruce let out an amused exhale. “No, I thought I’d help you a bit around the house—and Mrs. Kent, the boys are going home now. Alfred needs help at home,”

“It’s Ma, Bruce, I told you,” Ma had to pout. “And so soon?”

“Yeah, sorry, Ma,” Dick went over to her to hug her, and she returned the hug and kissed his cheek. 

“C’mere, you two,” said Ma as she let go of Dick, and motioned for Jason and Tim to give her a hug. Both boys did, and got goodbye kisses to their cheeks. “I’ll have Bruce bring home some pie, okay?”

“Thank you for today,” said Tim, “We’ll come back soon,”

“You should!” Ma agreed.

“You sure you’re not staying for dinner?” Pa asked as he shook hands with Dick. “Ma Kent makes a mean chocolate mousse,” he said, moving to Jason to squeeze his shoulder, and closer to Tim to pat him on the back.

“We’re really needed back,” said Tim apologetically. “Lots to do,”

Dick glanced at his wristwatch. “C’mon birdies, we’re needed back. Diana won’t like it if I’m late,”

“Alright,” said Pa, and Ma nodded, watching the three young men stand in the middle of the living room.

“See you soon!” said Dick as they waved goodbye.

“You be careful now!” Ma waved back.

In a flash of white light, they were gone.

“Such wonderful boys,” said Ma as she resumed unpacking the groceries and restocking the pantry.

Clark slipped out of the kitchen and back to the truck to gather the rest of the boxes, Pa had a glass of cold lemonade before getting back to the barn to clean it out, and Bruce thought it best to help Ma out. Moments later, Clark was again setting down boxes, the last of what they’d bought, it seemed.

“So, Bruce, what did you think of Smallville?” Ma asked as she deposited some cans of tuna flakes in the cupboard.

“It was actually quite charming,” Bruce admitted. “And I had a pleasant time with Clark strolling through the aisles of Mr. Baker’s store. He was very friendly, but I believe Clark found the run-in somewhat embarrassing,”

“Ugh,” Clark put a hand to his reddening face. “Bruce, please no,”

Bruce and Ma laughed.

* * *

 

“Jason,” said Dick, immediately following Jason upstairs when they appeared in the receiving area of the manor. “I think you need a moment to sit down and take a few calming breaths—”

Jason turned to him and pointing an angry finger at Dick’s face. “And you better be thankful that I didn’t lose it right then and there,”

“Why the hell should I be thankful for that?” Dick shot back just as angrily. “What? Were you going to go try to destroy a good day with family? Is that it? All because you’re pissed?”

“Don’t I have the right to be angry?” Jason boomed. “DON’T I?” he yelled louder. “He did _nothing_ to deserve what he’s getting. _Nothing_!”

“Except _love him_!” Dick yelled at Jason’s back, once again going after him through the halls of the manor.

Jason stopped and faced Dick again. “Oh, so now you’re defending him?” he demanded.

“No, I’m trying to be reasonable,” said Dick. “You don’t think the rest of us have any ill feelings? You don’t think the rest of us feel awkward around him? You don’t think the rest of us believe that Bruce deserves what he wants, needs, and to be happy?”

“Of course I want him to be happy—”

“No, Jason,” Dick cut him off, “ _You_ want to be happy. I think that’s fine, that you want to stay with us, and we want you to stay with us, too, and you’re welcome to, I’m sure Bruce has told you that. But you’re using your caste against Bruce, and you’re trying to control him because that’s what the law says you can do. You just can’t accept that Bruce doesn’t need you as much as you want him to need you anymore, that he doesn’t need you the way you want him to need you anymore. You’re not looking out for him like you think you are; you’re looking out for yourself,” he said sharply. “If you want Bruce to be happy, you’d make him happy if you let Clark make him happy. You let others share the happiness you feel,”

For a moment, Dick absorbed Jason’s speechlessness as if a deer caught in headlights, hoping that he’d struck a nerve that would push Jason into reflecting on what he’d been doing. He’d had enough, and between Bruce’s secret keeping and Jason’s anger management issues, he was just making simple things even more complicated.

“And before something else gets into your head, know that Bruce needs you, not just in the way you want him to. He needs you as a son, as a big brother, as the family alpha—but you’re too wrapped up in your selfishness to see that, and too blind and too numb from your anger to see and feel how loved and wanted you are,”

Before Dick turned to leave, he left Jason with some chores. “I’m going show up at work. Make sure Tim gets some sleep, we’re going on a stakeout, and you better stay undercover for tonight’s mission. If I hear so much as a scuffle in that club you’re infiltrating, you’ll be _benched for a week_ and you’ll be Alfred’s busboy,”

Dick took off to attend to something at the office, and Jason was left in the hallway, in shock and unable to retort to anything Dick had said. He leaned his back on the hallway wall, and slid down onto the floor, staring at the carpet.

* * *

 

Ma and Pa Kent hadn’t had a dinner that noisy in a while. It was fun, most of it was Conner complimenting Ma on her cooking, and asking random questions about the farm. Pa and Clark ended up answering most of it. Conner loved the mousse so much it got all over his face.

After dinner, Ma absolutely did not let Bruce help clean up despite his insistence to help, especially since Conner had made a mess of the mousse and the table.

“Bruce, dear, you should be putting your little sweetheart in pajamas, and get him ready for some reading before bed. You’re our guest! I’m not letting you wash the dishes!” she had said, and shooed Bruce away from her kitchen.

“Mommy?”

Bruce sat on the bathroom floor, letting Conner stay a few more minutes in the tub after he rinsed the soap and shampoo off him. “Yes, Conner?” he put his arm on the sill of the tub.

“Are you going to let Kal stay at the house longer now?” Conner asked. “Because you said you like him,”

“Do you want him to stay with us?” Bruce asked back as an answer.

“Uh-huh!” Conner nodded. “Because Kal always says he loves me, and he kisses me like you do! And he says to me he loves you too!”

“He tells you that?” Bruce asked curiously.

“Uh-huh!” Conner answered, squeezing the yellow duck that Bruce gently pushed over to him.  “All the time, Mommy! Because Kal says, I have to know that he loves you, because I love you, too!”

“Yeah?” Bruce smiled, using a cupped hand to take some water to pour over Conner’s shoulder. “And what do you say to Kal?”

“I tell Kal he has to love Mommy or I’m not going to like him anymore,”

That made Bruce laugh. “Alright, out of the water,”

Conner obediently let himself be pulled out of the tub, and let Bruce do the after bath routine. Conner liked baby lotion because it smelled really good, and Bruce thought the scent helped Conner fall asleep faster.

“Where are Dickie and Jay and Timmy, Mommy?” Conner asked as Bruce set him down on the bed to put his pajamas on him.

“They had to go home,” answered Bruce, rummaging through his bag for Conner’s sleepwear. He took them out when he found them, and slipped Conner into them.

“Bad guys?”

“Yes, there are bad guys, and Auntie Diana has some work to do with Dick—alright, you’re all ready for bed,” he said brushing Conner’s almost dried hair back with his fingers.

“Kal!” Conner hopped off the bed, and ran over to Clark who was standing at the open door’s threshold.

“Hey, buddy!” Clark lifted him off the floor, and blew a small raspberry on his cheek. “Ready for bed?”

“Uh-huh. Grandpa says I sleep early so I can feed the chickens tomorrow,” said Conner as Clark sat down on the bed, and set Conner down on his lap.

“Yeah, you have to wake up early for that,” Clark agreed dotingly. “Are you excited to work with the animals tomorrow?”

“Yes, yes! And we’re gonna run with the chickens and get veggies from the garden!” Conner clapped his hands excitedly.  

Bruce couldn’t help but smile.

“Then we have to go to bed! How about a story?”

“Story!” Conner parroted.

* * *

 

“ _‘The crowd cheered, “God bless the queen!” Then Elise noticed Sebastian’s wing. “Oh, your poor arm!” she cried in distress. “Don’t be sad,” he said, hugging her. “I will carry my swan’s wing proudly, as the symbol of a sister’s unselfish love.”_ ” (1)

Conner had fallen asleep halfway through, but he continued and finished reading the story, hoping that his voice was enough to keep him asleep through the rest of the story. Clark closed the book, and set it down on the nightstand. Clark pulled up the sheets and tucked him in, and pressed a kiss to his forehead goodnight.

“I love you, Conner. Sweet dreams,” he said softly, and couldn’t help but give Conner another kiss on his chubby cheek.

Clark watch Bruce also kiss their son goodnight, and switch off the lights before they left the room. “Bruce,”

Bruce gently closed the door, and both of them stood in the middle of a warmly lit hallway. “Yes?”

“Thank you for today,” he said earnestly. “I know that this has been hard for you, for the kids, especially Jason, I know how much he outright loathes me. I felt so happy today, I didn’t know what to do with myself,”

“I think you should just kiss me,” Bruce grabbed Clark’s collar and pulled him down for a kiss.

Clark didn’t waste any time kissing back. He relished Bruce’s scent, light cologne mixed with baby lotion and soap; his hot mouth and the scars he felt all over as his hands explored Bruce’s back. The kiss was slow, and it felt desperate, relieved, eager and hesitant all at the same time.

When they pulled away, Bruce was panting, his heated breath caught between their two bodies so close together.

* * *

 

“So?”

Jason ignored the landing of graceful feet behind him, and took a log drag of his cigarette. A gust of wind made Dick’s cape billow, and Jason blew the smoke out, the wind taking the smoke with it. He threw the butt on the roof’s floor, and stepped on it to put it out.

The rooftop was littered with countless cigarette butts and several empty cans of beer.

“I got nothing,” said Jason tiredly. “It’s 4am, give me a break, I stole some beer and some packs of smokes from the dude, so what? He deserves it anyway. Saw him hit one of his dancers on the way out about half an hour ago,”

“Seriously?” said Dick crossly. “Well, maybe then I _should_ thank you now for actually listening to me, but then again, you _stole_ all of these?”

“Of course not!” said Jason incredulously. “What the fuck, you think I’d steal something that’s only a couple of bucks? Jesus, Dick,”

“Maybe you’d like a megaphone to announce that?” Dick retorted sarcastically. (2)

Jason lit another stick, and finished it in about three drags, before throwing the butt off the side of the roof that time.

“Are you going to drink and smoke yourself to death?”

“I was hoping to until the old man decided to pop out a kid,” Jason answered honestly.

“He does need you, you know,”

“I know,”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) The Wild Swans by Hans Christian Andersen  
> (2) A running joke in Batman: Bad Blood where Damian says Dick’s name while in uniform, and Dick says Luke Fox’s name while they're in uniform before Luke named himself Batwing.
> 
> Reviews are appreciated!


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short but it's been a while since I last updated. 
> 
> Not beta'd as usual. 
> 
> Happy Easter! 
> 
> MOAR SMALLVILLE FLUFF

Clark handed Bruce a mug of tea as he sat down beside him on the wooden bench on the porch. “Hope you like lavender,” 

“That sounds great,” said Bruce as he took the mug. He wrapped his hands around it to warm his hands, and blew into its mouth before taking a cautious sip. 

Bruce recalled reading from somewhere, or probably hearing from Alfred that lavender tea helped sooth the body and mind, and helped with falling asleep. The lotion he put on Conner before bed had a lavender scent, but he wasn’t sure if it really worked and helped Conner sleep, but the child liked the mild scent, so he put it on him anyways. 

Clark sipped on his own mug of coffee. “I hope you were able to relax, Bruce,” 

“I was,” Bruce nodded. Juggling parenthood, crime fighting, and running a multinational conglomerate wasn’t exactly an easy job, but he had his kids to help, so he was thankful for that. 

“I’m glad,” Clark smiled, relieved to know that Bruce was able to unwind. “I’ve been meaning to ask, what happened to Ricky le Blanc?” (1)

Bruce took another sip of the tea. “He’s facing some thirty five years or so with no parole for two counts of kidnapping, aggravated assault, and illegal possession and trade of firearms, and drug related charges. He agreed to testify against his cohorts in exchange for a lighter sentence, and the possibility of early parole for good behavior. I doubt he’ll be in there for long, no matter how hard my lawyers try, considering many members of our justice system are being paid by all of the old families, Falcone, Maroni, Sionis, Cobblepot, you name it, to keep giving their men lighter sentences to let them get out faster and be useful again,” (2)

It wasn’t as bad as Bruce was just starting out. The police commissioner himself, Gillian Loeb, was taking money to release thugs even without bail. At least until Joker killed him. (3)

“What?!” exclaimed Clark. “After he did to you and Conner, he still gets a chance for a lighter sentence?” hearing all of that made his blood boil. “He should be serving no less than life!” he clenched his free hand into a tight fist. He almost felt like flying as fast as he could over to Blackgate to make sure the people who tried to hurt his family stayed behind bars.

“Clark,” Bruce put a hand on Clark’s knee. 

That made Clark relax, and the way Bruce said his name made him snap out of the sudden rise of his temper. “Huh?” 

Bruce looked him in the eye. “We are not going to let our personal lives interfere with what we do. There is only so much we can do for the people we try to help, and if we use our power or influences over these people, then we are no better than them,” 

“But we have to do something! I have to do something!” he frowned. 

Bruce withdrew his hand from Clark’s knee. “Write about it,” he said simply. “I’m sure your sources can tell you a thing or two about the corruption inside the new Solomon Wayne Courthouse,” 

“It’s sad you know? Your great-grandfather built that courthouse in old Gotham, then they built a new one in his name, and the people who run it can’t even protect you,” 

“The ironies of life, Clark,” Bruce sighed and sipped his tea. “If you do write something, I’ll make sure Perry prints it, and put in word at the Gotham Gazette, and maybe Vicki Vale won’t be on the front page for a change,”

For some time, they sat in comfortable silence, sipping their drinks, watching the stars, listening to the sound of crickets, and the rustling of the leaves as the breeze blew. 

Clark thought about what Bruce said. Maybe writing something would help. It might not completely change how Gotham’s courts work, but it could help change things little by little, and it could help give fair punishment to those who deserve it. He decided it was going to be the first thing he’d work on as soon as they got back. 

When a particular breeze made it a little Chilly, Clark moved closer to Bruce to share some of the heat he radiated, because Bruce would never admit that he was cold. He found this kind of stubbornness adorable, but not when, hypothetically, they were stuck somewhere under ten feet of ice, and Bruce insisted that he wasn’t hypothermic. 

“Would you mind heating the tea up again? But don’t boil it,” asked Bruce as he settled into Clark’s warmth. 

Clark chuckled. For about a second his eyes glowed red, and Bruce felt the mug become some degrees warmer. He hummed in approval before taking another satisfied sip. 

“Perfect,” said Bruce in lieu of thanks, and Clark only smiled as he watched Bruce drink his tea. Bruce let a few more moments of silence pass before speaking again. “Clark,” he turned to face the pseudo-Alpha, “I apologize for Jason’s behavior, especially his outburst,” 

A fond smile graced Clark’s lips. “It’s okay, Bruce. I understand where he’s coming from,” he snickered. “And he’s your son, it’s a given,” 

Bruce frowned and elbowed Clark’s arm. “Shut up,” 

Clark let out a laugh this time. “And I knew I’d be getting that outburst one day. I’m surprised he held back for so long. Though I have to admit, the use of colorful language did terrify me a little bit. I’ve never heard so many f-bombs in one go, I sort of felt somewhat lightheaded,” 

Bruce wanted to join Clark in his laughter, but settled for a light nod and a small smile instead. Leave it to Clark to let something like a severe show of disrespect to be swept under the rug. Then again, Jason didn’t have an ounce of respect for Clark Kent, for Superman he was polite for their job’s sake. 

“It’s actually an admirable quality,” Clark admitted. “He’s honest, though his honesty is quite abrasive and is very explosive,” 

“I never could get him to lessen his swearing,” Bruce agreed with a nod.

There was a pause from the both of them. For Clark, it was for making the most of the time back home, breathing in the fresh air, enjoying the peace and quiet he rarely got in the city, and enjoying keeping Bruce company. For Bruce it was mostly the same; to enjoy some down time, have fun with his kids, release the tension that usually came with his composure and of course, think about what he’d always been pushing to the back of his head—Clark. Not to mention doing all the things he knew would anger Jason, not that he liked straining his relationship with him once again. But Jason could handle it, hopefully now more like an adult and not an emotional, rebellious teenager. 

Releasing the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, Bruce spoke. “Listen, Clark,” 

“Hm?” Clark looked at him. 

Bruce tried to say something, but the words became stuck in his throat. 

Clark waited for him to speak, but saw that Bruce was struggling with what he wanted to say, and whatever it was, Clark wasn’t foing to force him to say it. He could wait. “Tell me some other time,” 

“No, I,” Bruce said a little too quickly, which took Clark by surprise. He took a deep breath. “I’m just glad you’re back,” he said finally. “I’m glad you’re here now to be Conner’s father,”

Bruce would never be able to say that he wanted Clark to stay for him, and not just for Conner. But he’d already said that Conner was the only one that mattered, that the only thing important was that Conner grow up with Clark around. Because for Clark, the heavens knew how much he wanted Bruce to say that he wanted Clark to be with him. But he didn’t have to hear them to know it was what Bruce needed and wanted. 

“I’ll always be around for the both of you, Bruce. I’m not going anywhere,” said Clark. “I hope you know that,” 

“Yes, thank you,” was the only thing Bruce could say. 

This time, it was Clark who was unsure if he should say what was on his mind, but went with it anyway. “Bruce could you,” he paused. “I am still very sorry I wasn’t there for you but will you tell me about how your pregnancy went? When Conner was born?”

“Well,” Bruce sipped his tea. “I believe the most difficult part of it was the nonstop nausea. It lasted until nearly the end of my term. Mostly from anything that’s greasy. Beef, pork, pizza, anything the boys liked to eat. Sometimes my blood pressure would be slightly above normal, but nothing too serious. His constant movement made it difficult to sleep…” 

And Clark listened. About how Conner’s conception brought Bruce’s kids back to him, their days in France, that used to have angry, reddish purple stretchmarks that now were silvery lines, streaks, and stripes on Bruce’s belly, how Brucie was now a private person, and that the boys handle his appearances now. Bruce put his mug down on the bench and fished out his phone, and showed Clark some photos of his progression, and a video of Conner kicking sometime between the second and third trimester, because Dick and Alfred wanted to document absolutely everything. Clark was amazed by it all, awed by Bruce’s experiences. Bruce told him about how labor lasted eight hours, and how Conner’s cries were the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard, finally having Conner in his arms was the most incredible thing he’d ever experienced. He told him about how he immediately saw Clark in the child he held. 

“I knew, the moment he opened his eyes, they were your eyes,” Bruce swiped a few times on the phone’s screen, and showed Clark a photo of Conner a few hours old. 

Clark stared at the photo, and all he could say was “Thank you, Bruce,” 

“Hm?” Bruce looked at him. “For what?” 

“For everything,” 

Clark kissed his forehead, and Bruce froze in his seat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) A crook from Arkham Origins. Please refer to Chapter 17.
> 
> (2) Please don’t be mean, I just winged this. If it’s wrong, just tell me. I did very light reading on New Jersey laws (where Gotham probably is), and based the years on the sentences depending on the degree of the crime. 
> 
> (3) In Arkham Origins, Joker posed as Black Mask, broke into Blackgate Prison and took Leob hostage. Joker, as Black Mask, said that things were going to change and that he wanted to start over with a new slate, and Leob wasn’t in it. He was put in a gas chamber, where he died from the fumes.
> 
> also idk what im doing anymore ahahahah huhuhuhu


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason feels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHO DECIDED TO UPDATE THIS. 
> 
> God I still have no idea where I want to steer this to so thank you so much for being patient with me. I hope I can figure it out soon. I wrote this at work so...yeah. 
> 
> LOVE ALL OF YOU 
> 
> XOXOXOXOXOX

Jason sat in front of the fireplace in the manor’s living room.

It wasn’t exactly a living room since they barely spent time in there. It was more of a receiving area for guests, where they were led to wait if the masters of the house couldn’t greet them or get to them immediately. Well, that’s where guests would wait if they actually had any guests who weren’t the League.

The room was dark, save for the warm light emanating from the fireplace. Jason stared at the pack of cigarettes he was holding. It was his last one. It was some cheap menthol kind, Jason didn’t really care.

And even if Dick didn’t believe him, he really didn’t’ steal the beer and smokes. He left a couple of twenties on the counter before leaving the bar. He was sure they didn’t actually cost that much but hey, what was a couple of extra bucks for the commotion he caused? It wouldn’t cover the bar’s losses, but that was still what? Forty, sixty bucks more than he should have paid for.

He pressed his nose onto the unopened pack, and took in one last inhale of the scent of nicotine and mint.

Then he threw the pack into the fire.

He watched the fire quickly eat through the paper and plastic wrapping, and burn through the cigarettes. It was gone in moments.

He was going to quit smoking. For good this time. Not that shit he did that he’d have a couple when he didn’t like what was going on around him, like how he fell back into smoking and drinking as much as he wanted when Superman came back and pushed Bruce into heat. As for drinking, he’d watch it, and drink only on occasion, never just because he saw a nice bottle of whatever he was feeling like drinking. And no hard liquor.

Which was why he was on his way to the kitchen. He opened one of the cupboards, and grabbed the bottle of Glenfiddich 30 year old whiskey. He popped it open, and poured it down the sink.

“HEY!” Dick said from the kitchen’s threshold, and ran over to him and took the bottle from Jason’s hands. “That’s a five hundred dollar bottle of whiskey! What the hell are you doing?!”

Jason frowned and took back the bottle. “It’s MY five hundred dollar bottle of whiskey, and I’ll do whatever the fuck I want with it!” he said as he continued to pour it down the sink. “And what the fuck do you think I’m doing? I’m going to waste something this expensive just because I can! I’m trying to quit, dumbass!”

Dick stared at him. “Really?”

“Yeah, really!” Jason said irritably. The last few drops went down the drain, then he proceeded to wash the bottle. “The hell does it look like?”

“Well,” said Dick as he crossed his arms. “It look like you were wasting a five hundred dollar bottle whiskey by pouring it down the drain,”

“It’s a personal thing, okay? Like my own personal intervention or some shit, I don’t know,” he put the bottle on the drying rack. 

“Is this for real this time?” Dick asked. “Because I don’t want to put up with any more of your shit, Jay,”

“And you think I want to put up with any more of yours, birdbrain?”

Dick raised a brow at him.

Jason sighed. “Yeah it’s for real,” he answered. “And to keep me from doing it, whenever I think of drinking, I’m gonna make those colored paper star thingies and put it in the bottle and make decoration out of it,”

Dick was actually impressed. Jason was going to put his efforts into arts and crafts. “That’s actually kind of cute,”

“It is!” said Jason, “Still gonna have to learn how to make the damn stars, though,” he walked past Dick. “I gotta get some sleep before I go out on patrol. Call if you need back up,”

“I will,” Dick watched him leave.

* * *

 

Dick did need backup. Not because he couldn’t handle it, but because there were children involved. Usually, it was easy to herd a few children out of an abandoned warehouse, but not when there was a dozen of them, all cold, scared, and crying, all wanting to hide in Dick’s cape for safety and warmth.

Jason had never been so thankful to have half a dozen children run into him in his life. All were safe, alive, albeit a bit bruised and scratched from the rough handling. No one had been hurt too bad, and the kidnapper was apprehended, knocked out and tied up. He just hoped they wouldn’t be traumatized and develop a fear of clowns, not that Gotham already has one because of Joker. He took one look at the suspect, who wanted to prove he could entertain children as a clown despite his lack of talent, and all he wanted to do was beat him up enough to let the cops find him barely breathing.

“Are you Batman’s friend?” asked one little girl, sitting on his lap as they all sat on the cold floor, waiting for the cops to arrive with the children’s parents.

He made sure all of them were close to him and accounted for, counting heads every few minutes to make sure they were complete. They reminded him of Kon. To these children, he was just like Batman and Robin. He fought bad guys and he was the absolute good guy, even though he swore, smoked, and drank, and called his brothers mean names, and beat up crooks more than he should. But to Kon, he wasn’t a vigilante. To Kon, he was just Jason, the big brother who taught him how to be a little shit and be adorable while doing it.

Jason, with his helmet off, nodded. “We’re friends, and we’re family,”

If Dick, who was already back out on patrol listening in through their comms, could scream in joy he would. He was very proud of his little brother right now.

“You’re my favorite now,” said a little boy who was wearing a baseball shirt. He too climbed onto Jason’s lap, and laid his head on his chest. “My mama says you like beating up people more than Batman,”

“Your mama’s right,” answered Jason.

“But you didn’t beat up the bad man,” said another little girl.

“Batman already beat him up for me,” he said. “Do you want me to beat him up again?”

“Yeah!” several of them said.

Jason laughed. “Later, when he wakes up,”

“Will we meet Batman again?” said another boy. “I want to share with him and Robin and you my dad’s cookies because his cookies are the best,”

“No, my mommy’s cookies are the best!” frowned another.

“Alright, alright,” said Jason in attempt to calm them down. “How about you leave a plate of cookies for us at night by your window, and wait if we turn up and eat your cookies, how’s that?”

“With milk too? Like Santa?”

“You gotta admit, we’re better than Santa,” Jason smirked at them.

“Better than Santa!” they agreed.

Moments later, sirens pierced through the silence of the night, and Jason put on his helmet as he herded the children towards the warehouse entrance while dragging the kidnapper behind him. As soon as the doors opened, kids ran out to their relieved parents, and handed over the suspect to the authorities.

A little girl went running back to him before he could grapple away. He knelt to catch her. “Bye bye,” she said, and kissed the helmet’s cheek before returning to her parents.

Then he remembered the punch he promised the suspect. The man groaned as he was handled by the police. “Hey!” he said as he approached, sounding angrier than he intended. “The kids wanted me to leave you with a parting gift,” then he gave him a decent punch to the face. An officer snickered, but regained his composure and shoved the suspect into the car.

Jason watched as sobbing moms and dads, some single, some with mates, and some those who didn’t smell like mates, come together to ensure the safety of their children. Jason almost wanted to be beamed to Smallville and gather his baby brother in his arms and just hold him and be thankful that he was safe. 

Dick landed quietly beside him as the children were seated into the police cruisers, wrapped in blankets and safe in their parents’ arms. Detective Bullock waved to Dick once, then got into his own car and followed the cruisers that were headed back to the station.

It was a little past four in the morning, so he wordlessly walks half a block to where he left his bike, while Dick grappled and swung back to the Batmobile. When he got back home, Dick was already asleep. He parked the bike in its designated place in the cave, and made his way back up to his room. He threw his clothes into the hamper and hung the brown leather jacket in the closet before getting back under his sheets.

He stared at the ceiling, thinking that yeah, he hated Clark, but he guessed seeing families complete and putting aside their differences for each other in times of need might have changed his mind. Besides, it happened with him and his family. He ran away and Bruce welcomed him back with open arms and didn’t say anything about his past. He came back, and there was a room for him, clothes, food and drink, and Bruce never did anything that would make him feel like he held something against him.

Now Jason thought maybe it’s okay to have both parents. He knew what it was like to be abandoned by his own, so why would he do that to Kon and drive Clark away from him?

He sighed, then turned to his side, trying to find a comfortable position so he could fall asleep. He really needed some vodka right now. Or tequila. He was gonna have to make a lot of paper stars tomorrow.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not beta'd like nobody's business cos fuck editing amirite ahahahahahuhuhu i am so sorry
> 
> first of all, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE WHO LEFT KUDOS. I'VE REACHED A THOUSAND KUDOS HOLY FUCK?? Thank you for being patient with me and I know the writing quality is slipping because I haven't had any practice in a long while when I wrote this chapter. But I want to let you know that this is still alive. Unlike some of my other stories idk im sorry i will uh shut up now
> 
> so you know someone pointed out that this thing is four years old and im like "fuck i better wrap this shit up" so i will try my best to. 
> 
> well then I hope you enjoy this chapter cos i have no idea what i'm doing and the writing is like idk shit 
> 
> also has anybody watched kingsman I AM OBSESSED WITH HARTWIN AND FIRTHERTON LIKE YOU WOULDN'T BELIEVE. taron is just so beautiful and gorgeous and perfect. jesus christ i want him to sing to me. SING TO ME TARON, SING TO ME

“Hey,” Clark took a hold of Bruce’s hand before he could enter the bedroom.

“Yes?” Bruce turned to Clark.

Clark thought the time he spent and the conversation he had with Bruce on the porch was already too much, but he couldn’t help himself. He felt like he’d be imposing on Bruce’s personal space if he asked this from him. “May I kiss Kon good night one more time?”

“Of course,” Bruce led him into the dim room. Bruce wondered why Clark would think he’d keep Conner away from him, but then he remembered he did try to send Clark away the first time he tried to say hello.

Clark smiled when he saw Conner hugging his stuffed bird, sleeping soundly. “Good night, Kon,” he whispered against the child’s hair. “I love you,” he whispered as he pressed a kiss to Conner’s temple.

He stayed there for a few more moments, just running his hand through Conner’s hair, brushing a thumb over the soft cheek. He couldn’t help the excitement bubbling up for tomorrow, when Conner would be awake and he could gather him up in his arms and shower him with kisses.

“Would you…” said Clark, “Would you,” he turned to Bruce, “let me take him flying one day?”

That set off a kind of fright in Bruce. There was no reason for alarm, and even Bruce himself thought that it made no sense to be scared of the thought of Conner going flying with Clark. It was just flying. Bruce had gone flying with Clark before. Flying with Clark didn’t always appeal to Bruce and he’d much rather be driving or flying his own vehicle or aircraft, but it didn’t pain him to admit to himself that it was a good kind of rush to be held by strong arms, unaffected by gravity, and cool wind brushing his cheeks.

Clark’s brows met in worry at the spike in Bruce’s heartrate. “Bruce? Is there something wrong?” he got to his feet to approach Bruce, but Bruce moved a step back.

“It’s nothing,” Bruce shook his head. “No, I don’t mind you taking him flying but I think I need to lie down, Clark, so good night,” he held the door open for Clark.

Clark didn’t reply immediately. He thought he might have said something Bruce didn’t want to hear, and he hated how the closeness they’d been able to work on today was undone by something Clark had said. “I…good night, Bruce,” he gingerly left the room, hoping that if he stayed a few seconds longer Bruce would say something else.

Bruce didn’t say anything else. As soon as Clark was through the threshold, Bruce closed the door and clicked the lock. He immediately toed off his shoes and climbed into bed. He pulled Conner to him, kissing his hair and taking the child’s tiny hand into his.

‘Pull it together,’ he thought over and over again. ‘It’s just flying. It’s just flying,’ he shut his eyes so hard he saw stars. ‘Just flying,’

Flying didn’t mean Clark would take Conner away from him. Clark wasn’t that kind of alpha. He’d never be.

* * *

 

The sound of the lock clicking hurt Clark like a knife piercing through him. Bruce basically pushed him out of the door, and he had no idea why. He couldn’t accept that he the reason why Bruce’s heart was beating so fast was fear. He sighed and dragged himself into his room. He sat on the edge of his bed, holding his head in his hands, feeling like someone had put a weight he couldn’t carry on his shoulders.

The look on his face. Bruce looked terrified of him. He stepped back as if Clark were going to strike him.

That was one of the things he never wanted to see on Bruce. He’d rather be Bruce be anything else other than scared of him. He ran his hand over his face in frustration. Sometimes, it felt like he had no right to be frustrated, not when it was Bruce who went through such hardship. But he did too, especially when Bruce wouldn’t talk to him. Why _would_ Bruce talk to him? He knew he hadn’t completely gotten Bruce’s trust yet.

Ma and Pa were already asleep, making the house still and quiet. He didn’t want to disturb the peace, so he made his way out onto the porch, out onto the grounds, towards the barn, and made him comfortable on its roof.

He’d been to those stars. He’d flown right past them several times throughout several missions. He thought the stars weren’t as pretty without Bruce beside him gazing at them, like earlier tonight.

Clark would never have gone to Krypton if he knew this was the outcome. When he got back, he’d only been gone for a month, but the distance between Krypton and Earth dilated the time. The further away he got from Earth, the faster time went on it. (1)

He was stupid think helping Bruce through a heat wouldn’t have its consequences. Consequences that grew worse and worse the more time he spent away from Earth.

This made Clark realize Bruce was now four years older than him.

He could see the weight of the last five years on his loved ones. His parents’ faces earned more lines; Bruce’s boys had matured and come of age, no longer the adorable children he first met, and now hardened by the gravity of their responsibilities both from their mantles and family; and Bruce, whose changes Clark couldn’t pin down. Bruce both had lost and gained his body mass, and light crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes, and haunting dark circles beneath those stormy blues revealed just how tired he really was.

* * *

 

“Clark? Honey, what are you doing up there?”  

Clark woke up with a jolt. The sun was peeking through the horizon and he guessed it was about half past five in the morning. He held his hand up to shield his newly opened eyes from the sun’s brightness, and saw his mother on the ground below.

“Ma,” he jumped off the roof and landed on the ground with a muted thud.

“Were you up there all night?” Ma took his arm and led him back into the house. “C’mon, Pa’s fixing us some coffee in the kitchen,”

A few moments passed before Clark gave his Ma an answer. “Yeah, I think I fell asleep up there,”

Ma stopped in her steps, then led Clark back out onto the grounds. “Doesn’t take much to tell something’s bothering you,” she said after a while, when they’re a walk’s away from the house.

Clark didn’t want to read into it much, but he was. “I think I said something wrong last night. Bruce…” he sighed. “I don’t think Bruce wants to see me anymore, Ma,”

She studied him before speaking. “You don’t really think that, do you?”

“You didn’t see his face, Ma,” Clark pulled away from her. “He was _terrified_ of me. It’s seared into my head and I can’t stop thinking about what I’d done to deserve this _fear_ from him. He can be anything else, angry, disgusted, he can hate me, but never fear, Ma. I don’t think I can take it,”

Ma waited a moment to let Clark breathe his frustration out. “Jumping into conclusions always lead you into messy situations, Clark. Try talking to him about it. And work from there?”

Clark looked at her and he wanted to say something against her suggestion, but deep down he knew she was right. He was getting too ahead of himself, and Bruce was the type to keep to secrets, no matter how painful the weight on his shoulders were.

“I don’t…” he exhaled. “I don’t think I can face him…”

“You’re going to have to, dear,” said Ma, “Running isn’t going to solve anything and will make matters worse,”

“Ma,” Clark said brokenly, turning to look at the rising sun on the horizon. “Ten months ago, I left for Krypton. Nine months ago, I came home. I’ve been gone for a month, and between the day I left and the day I came back, five years passed on Earth. Five years, and I don’t know how or what to do to catch up. Everybody’s moved on, and I came back thinking I missed a month’s rent,” (2)

Ma hooked their arms together and leaned her head on Clark’s strong arm. “When you see the sun rising, what do you think of?”

“A new day,”

Ma nodded. “And what does a new day entail?”

“Opportunities, hope,” Clark said after a while.

“And when you have hope, you have?” Ma prodded on.

“Faith,”

Ma nodded. “Clark, I’m not putting words in Bruce’s mouth, and as a beta, I might not know what it’s like to be so driven by instinct, but without you, Bruce has never had a day in the last five years that he isn’t terrified of tomorrow. You’re his tomorrow, Clark. Help him feel safe,”

“What if he doesn’t want me to be?” he muttered as he came closer and closer to crumbling.

“I think he still wants you to be his future. It’s okay to feel helpless, Clark. The people here aren't the only ones adjusting, you are as well. It’s okay to feel lost, to feel hurt,” Ma raised a gentle hand to Clark’s chin so their eyes meet. “You don’t have to be strong all the time. Come here, my beautiful boy,” she pulled him into a hug that she hoped would lift his spirits.

Clark melted into her embrace, he entire being calming him down like she did when he was young. He wanted to be able to do this with Bruce, to listen to all his burdens and help him carry it. To hold Bruce and somehow be the comfort to him, be his rock, someone he could lean on, like his mother was for him in during difficult times.

When he let her go, she cupped his face and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “C’mon, we can have some coffee first to warm ourselves, and maybe a big breakfast, how’s that?”

Clark chuckled. It felt like one of those weekends after a particularly bad week at school, and Ma would let him have everything he wanted to eat at breakfast on a Saturday morning. “Yeah, Ma, that sounds great,”

The walk to the house was short, but Clark felt it’d been shorter than that. Bruce wasn’t awake yet, so he finished his coffee and told his Ma he’d take care of the morning’s chores. He cleaned out the horses’ stable first and fed them, then the coops, but left the chicken feeding to Conner. He was about to turn off the irrigation when Conner came running out into the field holding a small bucket of chicken feed, with his own Pa right behind him.

“KAL!” Conner yelled. “CHICKENS!”

Clark chuckled, turned off the water, and let the child come to him. “Hey, buddy!” he smiled, pulling Conner into a hug and peppering his cheeks with kisses. “Ready with your feed there?”

“Uh-huh!”

“Where’s mommy?” Clark asked Conner as they made their way to the coops.

“In the bath,” answered Conner. “And he said he’s gonna help Grandma with breakfast,”

Clark just hoped Bruce wasn’t going to avoid him.

* * *

 

Bruce sunk into the hot water. It was probably not the right time for an actual soak, but he was unable to sleep last night, not with all the thoughts plaguing him. He felt exhausted, and would love to get a decent night’s sleep without the help of medication for once. He didn’t want Conner growing up thinking taking so much medication was normal.

He just hoped Conner hadn’t caught on and noticed his unease with sending him with his grandfather.

Steam blurred the mirrors and the windows, and the hot water slowly relieved him of his headache, and the knots in his muscles, formed by his restlessness, started to undo themselves. It felt good to have this moment of respite to himself. Maybe he could get a nap until the water went warm.

* * *

 

“Bruce? Bruce!”

Bruce snapped his eyes open, and his sudden movement caused the water to overflow. “What?”

“Let’s get you out of there, alright?” said Clark, putting an arm around Bruce’s shoulders to lift him out of the water. “You’ll get a cold if you stay in there a bit longer,”

The water hadn’t completely cooled down yet, and it was still warm. “I fell asleep,” he said, setting his feet down on the rug by the tub. He absently watched Clark rummage around the bathroom for a fresh towel to wrap around him.

“Are you okay?” Clark asked, genuinely hoping Bruce would open up him, even just a little. He handed Bruce a towel, which Bruce tied around his waist. He grabbed another one to dry Bruce’s hair with.

“I couldn’t sleep last night,” Bruce answered.

Clark hung the towel around Bruce’s neck and led him out back into the bedroom, where he continued to dry Bruce’s hair.  Bruce sat on the edge of the messy bed and let Clark massage his head through the towel. Clark set the towel aside, and sat down next to Bruce.

“I’m sorry I upset you last night,”

Bruce didn’t know if he had the energy to come up with anything that would put Clark’s mind and heart at ease. “I shouldn’t be bothered by it anyway,” said Bruce, taking Clark’s hand in his. “It’s a shallow thing to be worked up over. It’s about time I believe you’re here to stay,”

At that moment, Clark understood.

_“Would you let me take him flying one day?”_

“Bruce,” Clark started cautiously. “Did you really think I’d take Conner away from you?”

Bruce snorted, giving Clark the idea he’s being ridiculous. He let go of Clark’s hand. “Every day, like the many alphas who deem the omegas they bred unworthy of raising their flesh and blood,” but in reality, it was Bruce snorting at the ridiculousness of his instincts feeding his fears.

This was the first time Clark was hearing any of this.

“Bruce—”

“I know,” Bruce stood up and fished for clothes from his bag in the closet. He dropped the towel, doing away with any shame. Clark had seen his body before; there was no need to hide it, its marks, and its scars. He pulled on some underwear, a pair of pants, and a Henley that’s too loose for Clark’s liking. “I know fearing something you’ll never do is stupid, and there is no other word for it, but the thought does terrify me to no end. And I can’t seem to overcome it,”

It was unsettling to hear Bruce, who’d always been fearless even in the face of death, confess the thought of Clark’s disloyalty plaguing him. Bruce didn’t deserve to be trapped in the prison of his own mind, created by instincts, tormented by fears he knew were far from sensible.

Bruce turned to face him. To Clark, Bruce always looked pristine. But not today, not when he hadn’t had any sleep, when Clark could finally see how tired he really was. From looking after Conner, from making sure all his children were safe, from working to keep his parents’ company going, from his duty to the League, from the agonizing, painful thoughts instilling needless fears into him.

He wasn’t just tired. He was exhausted.

“I dream,” Bruce said, padding over to the window where he could see Conner having a good time with Pa Kent. “I dream of the day Conner finally realizes he resents me for manipulating you into spending a heat with me,”

“You know that’s not true,” said Clark with a frown. “You asked for help, that doesn’t mean you coerced me into doing something against my will,” 

“I also know you won’t take Conner away from me, but I still fear you would one day, out of spite,” Bruce looked at him. “And I know you know how high the suicide rate is for omegas separated from their children,”

“I will _never_ take Conner away from you, Bruce—”

“Because what are we omegas to you alphas anyway? Nothing but walking wombs, am I right?”

“That’s not true!” Clark said vehemently, this time, his brows meet in anger. In a few strides, he was by Bruce’s side, hoping Bruce would let himself be pulled into an embrace. “You are more than that, Bruce. You are more than just your body. So much more,”

Bruce kept his eyes on Conner. “I know. But you left us. Somewhere under the omega instincts, I know I'm more than that but right now... I don't know if I can believe it,”

“I know I always haven’t treated you like anything less than the love of my life, leaving you like that. I have no excuse for it,” Clark sighed. “I didn’t expect to be away for as long as I was. And we both know I’m an idiot,”

Bruce met his eyes this time and chuckled. “Yeah, you are,”

There was a fondness in the way Bruce said it that it instantly replaced the cold in his body with a spreading warmth. It made Clark decide in that instant to devote his life to making Bruce happy because he deserved it, because he caused a good chunk of Bruce’s pain.

Bruce watched himself entangle their fingers together, loosely holding Clark’s hand in his. “Lucky for you, so am I,”

“What makes you say that?”

Bruce shook his head. The answer would never be something Clark would want to hear. Not when he was still waiting for the eventuality of Clark leaving, not when even a bite couldn’t stop him from walking away. So he leaned forward, laid his head on Clark’s shoulder, and bravely asked, “Please stay,”

Clark didn’t dare miss a heartbeat and wrapped his arms around Bruce, pulling him into a warm embrace. “I wouldn’t dream of doing anything else,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Think Interstellar, only being gone for 24 hours doesn’t mean you’re gone for a lifetime. Just a teeny, tiny bit of time dilation. FOR THE ANGST
> 
> (2) Actually I have no idea how long Clark has been back so just bear with me on this one thank you xD
> 
> I wrote this with the intention of a nice, happy chapter. And then it took a sharp turn and I’m yelling “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING” to myself. At least it ended on a good note and I will be forcing this shit to go on positively. I swear I'm driving myself insane.
> 
> please leave comments i love comments FEED MEEEE


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